


Psycho Pass: Apology Of An Endgame

by MelinaRavese



Series: Psycho Pass [2]
Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Cyberpunk, Dystopia, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Manga & Anime, Philosophy, Prequel, Science Fiction, Sybil System (Psycho-Pass)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelinaRavese/pseuds/MelinaRavese
Summary: A month after enforcer Mitsuru Sasayama was murdered during the height of the Specimen Case, Nobuchika Ginoza is leading a final investigation with former inspector Kougami Shinya to unravel the truth and find the culprits who remain a mystery.A new clue will come to light, one that could change forever the Special Case 102.
Series: Psycho Pass [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043496
Comments: 15
Kudos: 8





	1. Psycho Pass: Apology Of An Endgame

__


	2. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created a playlist on Spotify for Psycho Pass: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1av089H7dv2BoS5pvT7IbP?si=a8vK8HdnSLqW5MBJksoweg

Nobuchika Ginoza made his dark shoes resound through the corridors, attracting some looks and nods along the way. At that moment he saw Inspector Aoyanagi coming out of the elevator, who raised her head a few inches when she recognized him, and walked back in his direction with a slight smile.

“Heading to the chief’s office?”

Ginoza arched an eyebrow, “How do you know that I am going there?”

“Anyone looks more serious than usual when she calls for a meeting.”

It took Ginoza a few seconds to smile, yet he changed the subject as if that simple gesture left him vulnerable.

“I was told that Kozaburo Toma managed to escape, but at first I could not believe it.”

Aoyanagi slowly nodded as if she had waited for the comment and looked straight ahead again, “I could not believe it either. The chief explained to me that he might have gotten help from someone inside the Ministry of Welfare. We no longer have any leads on him.”

“I see. There is no other way he could have done so anyway.”

They walked silently for a while, watching other divisions settle into their offices.

“I am sorry about Sasayama,” Aoyanagi suddenly said in a soft voice. “How is Kougami?”

Ginoza stopped by the door to the chief’s office and Aoyanagi stood in front of him looking into his eyes, only to discover a dark glow that gradually covered them.

“He… is becoming obsessed with the case in the same way that Sasayama did.”

“That’s understandable. His friend was killed and now the person responsible has escaped,” she made a pause and squinted. “You have to protect yourself. Keep your distance. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded his head and then she went on her way to her division office, not before closing her eyes for a few seconds and taking a breath. Then he turned to the door which slid open automatically, and distinguished the enigmatic and professional figure at the end of the large room. Stretched out on the back of the seat with her arms slightly bent, the woman turned a pyraminx. Her eyes were narrowed and fixed on the object, as if her life were at stake if she did not manage to solve it.

“Did you call me, chief?”

Ginoza blinked when he noticed that she cast a fleeting glance at him and then returned to focus on her hobby.

“You may know that the case Kozaburo Toma was involved in is still being investigating by a special team formed by the Ministry of Welfare,” she announced with a relentless voice without expecting any response. “However, the Public Safety Bureau has the authority to keep investigating this matter. I will be putting division one in charge once again.”

Ginoza’s eyes opened wide and for a moment he was speechless, not knowing exactly what to say.

“I thought it was Aoyanagi’s division that was leading the case.”

“Her division has other issues to deal with at this time. And it was yours the one that reported possible accomplices, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Therefore, it is your division that has made the most progress in the investigation. Kozaburo Toma is a dangerous man for society. If finding one of his accomplices can lead us to him, then it is our top priority to further investigate.”

Ginoza firmly nodded, but arranged his glasses before continuing, “We shall first question other teachers and students. Our only witness was found with brain damage and is unable to communicate. But it will be difficult without Mitsuru Sasayama—”

“You have Kougami Shinya,” the chief blurted out, stopping to look him straight in the eye. “He is an enforcer now and it is his duty to put his own life in danger. Moreover, he seems to have inherited the scent of his last hound. You are to take him with you… as long as you place him under strict supervision.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I want you to bring the accomplices alive in order to interrogate them. Did I make myself clear?”

“As you wish,” Inspector Ginoza bowed briefly and turned to leave the office.

A few seconds passed until the chief leaned forward with refined manners, resting her arms on the desk, “And Ginoza… please remember your position in the field. It would be unfortunate if you ended up in a state similar to that of your partner.”

“I understand, chief.”

When he crossed the door and it closed behind him, the room became completely silent as the chief turned the pyraminx once last time, and left it on the desk with a smirk as she observed its bright colors. Suddenly she stated, “This is our last chance to find Shougo before he goes into hiding again. I must admit he played it well.”


	3. 2

The sun was shining in the sky as Yashiro walked into the hospital. She looked up at the scanners on every corner, which checked the psycho pass of newcomers; including hers. Since no alarm rumbled and people around did not turn to her, she stopped in the middle of the entrance hall for a moment, and grabbed the collar of her black mid length coat with one hand to adjust it, only then did she move on.

A nurse greeted her with a pleasant smile and guided her through the hospital corridors, until they reached a room where a television was on in the corner of the ceiling. Yashiro stood in front of the window to look inside. The nurse was talking about the cerebrovascular accident, about how speech therapy no longer worked for the patient, yet she focused on the static image of the room.

When the nurse decided to leave her alone with the patient, Yashiro gulped and slowly entered the room, her steps almost drowning out the voices on the television, those that were speaking of the murder case that had taken place a month before, though in an entertaining way, as if they did not take it seriously or did not want to worry the viewers too much.

Yashiro turned to the thin, motionless figure sitting on the white bed that leaned slightly over the pillow, and stood at the foot of it to look into those empty hazel eyes that were still focused on the hologram. She decided to turn off the television, and soon the room was in deep silence. Only then did her voice echo like a whisper of death, “Hello, Toko.”

The sound of an old camera made its way into the room as soon as the hazel eyes were fixed on hers, and Yashiro found herself walking toward her to see the photo on the small screen; she had promised herself that she would at least have one with her. Rikako was still standing by the tree; she was very used to being the center of attention at the academy, and in order to maintain her reputation she always kept a smile in front of any camera; it was the first time, however, that her features looked solemnly relaxed. Yashiro thanked Toko, who grinned at her before leaving, “I’ll let you know when it’s ready!”

Yashiro gently pushed the wheelchair into the courtyard. The patient’s long black hair fell wavy around her shoulders, but at no time did she turn to look at her. Yashiro stopped the wheelchair by a bench and sat in it. Toko Kirino was frozen, her eyes wide open and lost in the distance. Her lips trembled slightly unable to utter a single word. Her hands were clutching the armrests tightly. Yashiro forced herself to turn her head in her direction, closing her eyes for a few seconds.

She felt a strange desire to scream she was guilty, yet she knew that no one would believe her and instead, they would think that she just wanted to be noticed or to feel important. She would be willing to turn herself in to the MWPSB as Sasayama did, since she was not afraid of being caught but of being disappeared just like Toma. And she did not want to die in vain.

Yashiro moved her hand to the hidden holster on her belt and touched the Glock 19, the one she had become accustomed to carrying everywhere under her coat. Possession of weapons was forbidden throughout the country, yet since the Sibyl System was not capable of protecting citizens, she no longer felt safe walking the streets with morally defective people who can evade scanners like herself.

And she instantly pursed her lips; she realized that she could easily kill someone inside that building and there would be no one to stop her, for the scanners did not recognize her. It was as if the Sibyl System itself prompted her to do so. Was she losing her humanity? Was she fading away?

She had told Inspector Kougami that something was fading into him, though she did not exactly know what it was. He wanted to catch the criminal without going into darkness and coming out black, he wanted to be a real detective, even though he was beginning to believe he could not be the perfect agent he had dreamed of so much, for you cannot go in shadows without adapting your eyes. Sasayama knew it all along.

But now she realized that she was fading as well. And it felt strange that she never knew. Toko Kirino turned to her but Yashiro slowly looked away, her eyes starting to glow as she arched an eyebrow for a second, feeling the familiar warmth coming down her cheeks and the heavy stone inside her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe. The truth in those hazel eyes was the light she needed to see, and it was strong enough to leave her blind.

When Yashiro came out of the building, she stopped in her tracks to look around as a tourist who got lost in the new city. Cars were passing by and people were rushing to arrive early in the morning. That was her home, the city where she was born; yet it looked so different to her then. She felt just like a bird singing from a tree; nothing more than a lost breeze.

But as soon as she glanced at the sidewalk across the street, she found a tall man looking at her with his hands clasped in front of him, his amber eyes fixed on hers and his lips seeming to hold back so as not to smile. He was wearing a white shirt and a tie under a beige vest. Something prompted her to move toward the lonely figure, and when she was right in front of him, she stopped again with her head slightly raised.

“I knew you would come here,” Makishima finally smiled tilting his head down to look at her more closely.

His deep yet soft voice made her exhale air, the one she had not heard for so long and the one she least expected.

“I had to see her one last time.”

“Did it make any difference?”

Yashiro looked to the side barely closing her eyes, “No. It didn’t.”

After a brief pause, Makishima stretched out one hand and turned forward, placing it gently on Yashiro’s back, who turned as well to continue walking right beside him, her gaze reddened by the recent crying lost on the floor while his focused on the front, as if looking at anyone who might get in their way. He placed his hand next to his body again and they kept walking side by side, toward a destination that Yashiro did not know; she let herself be guided by him.

"You may have met many people so far; none have impacted your life. Miss Kirino clearly has and that surprises you. Not in the same way as Rikako has, yet..."

Yashiro blinked a couple of times as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I was so confident trying to help Rikako..."

"To... save her."

"That I lost Toko."

His eyes sparkled, “You were having influence on her as well. But you must know that no matter how much effort you put in; a child will always become what his will desires. Everyone seeks freedom; even if they don’t know what it means.”

They stopped when the traffic light turned green and when it came back to red, they kept walking.

"My psycho pass has been decreasing since then."

He released a short chuckle and only then did he turn to her, his face shinning with an almost affectionate smile, “People worry if their hues go black, yet you worry if it melts into white. You are truly one of a kind, Yashiro.”

They arrived at Inokashira Park and began to walk more slowly as nature fell upon them. They kept in silence from then on, for some people gathered around to take pictures of the lake right beside them. As soon as they walked away Yashiro muttered, “About Toko Kirino…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever come near her again,” she shot back.

His mouth suddenly curved showing part of his teeth, “Or what?”

Yashiro turned completely to face him and grabbed him by the vest, while leaving her right hand in her holster, where Makishima could see the Glock 19. Then he looked back into her iron eyes, and observed each one of them. He blinked as he realized that under the sunlight they were even brighter, and seemed to be furtively melting into a pale blue.

“I’ll shoot you.”

Makishima opened his eyes wider and gave a soft chuckle, “Fair enough. But don’t worry; I’m a man of my word. And I’m no longer interested in her. I was indeed curious about how she would react to her father’s murder, but you didn’t let her kill Toma.”

Yashiro released him and walked away as if nothing had happened, while Makishima arranged his tie before following her. He sat down on a bench under a tree crossing one leg over the other, and Yashiro instead went to the railing in front of him to look at the lake. The smell of water filled her with a calm that she could not find in the streets of Tokyo. It felt strange that such a haunted place was so empty.

“You were the one who helped Toma escape, weren’t you?” Yashiro stated more to herself. “First the fire at the academy, then in his apartment."

"I kept my word from the very beginning."

"Toma was not part of the deal, but you clearly used him as well. You betrayed my trust."

Makishima frowned and stood up to get closer, his face suddenly dark, "You knew Miss Kirino would link her father's death to Toma, and that she would go to the enforcer. You wanted chaos for Rikako and students to get out of the way so their hues remained clear, while Toma and the enforcer killed each other. I gave you that."

She clenched her fists on the railing, “Surely you wouldn’t lose the chance to let him go. You still had a move for Toma, isn’t that right?”

“I was looking forward to seeing what he would do next, indeed,” Makishima asserted with the deepest voice she had ever heard. “But I have never lied to you, Yashiro.”

“You lied about playing on my side. You have no sides, but pieces.”

“Did I ever put you in danger on purpose?”

“I know you are Rikako’s art teacher. And probably you are the one who told Toma about her as well. You knew he would want to kill Sasayama after losing Toko. So you didn’t let him because you wanted me to do it by myself—"

“You were a player in this game too, Yashiro. And you know that victory leads to losses.”

“It’s easy to get rid of others when no one cares about you.”

Yashiro pursed her lips and frowned. Her lungs emptied as silence progressed. By the time she realized what she had just said, it was too late.

"This isn’t about me, or Miss Kirino, or Miss Oryo. It’s about Toma. You personally wanted him dead," Makishima raised his eyebrows turning slowly to her.

For a moment, Yashiro closed her eyes and sighed.

“I did not see coming that he would kidnap her. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He dragged her straight into his mess. He made her… a witness. Guess I underestimated how destructive he could be. Toma was always… unpredictable. But I got a glimpse through that pretty smile from the beginning… and the conclusion I came to is… that he is dangerous. Maybe that’s why… when I heard him talking to Rikako, I instantly knew that he was up to something…”

Makishima squinted for a second and his features relaxed.

“Do you… consider yourself and Toma to be alike?”

“No,” she cut him short with a scowling glance. “No. Unlike him, I don’t like playing God. Where did that question come from?”

“You seem to understand him more than you realize… even if you despise his actions. Are you sure that the only reason you wanted him dead, is because he made Miss Kirino a witness? Or is it because you did not want to admit that he influenced you in some way?”

Yashiro pursed her lips when she turned to him for a fleeting moment, as if trying to make him disappear right there and then realizing that it was not possible. Makishima smiled like a little boy after playing a prank and she lost her eyes in the water again.

“There was no way he could make it out alive,” remarked Yashiro resting her forearms on the railing and leaning forward slightly. “One way or another, Sasayama would have found him. I know he would have.”

“I may be a few years older than you but I’m not a fool. You completely hoodwinked everyone; the bureau itself."

“About that—"

"You used Miss Kirino as bait to lure your enforcer. You knew she would go right after her father’s killer, and expected Toma to kill him and the inspectors to finish their job. Things didn’t turn out as intended, so you led your enforcer to Toma. I was going to turn him over to you as a gift but you did lie to me, for you wanted to kill him from the beginning when I made it clear that I needed him to get information from the MWPSB.”

“I’m sorry I tricked you,” Yashiro shrugged her shoulders and closed her eyes for a moment. “I didn’t know what else to do."

He moved a little closer to place a lock of hair behind her ear, "Be willing to let the world burn just to save one life. That's something I can relate to. I have only a question to ask you."

“Which is?”

There was a brief moment when he raised his head with his body completely upright, looking into her eyes as if searching for something.

“How did this enforcer of yours know about me?”

Yashiro arched an eyebrow for a second, she had forgotten the fact that Sasayama was able to put the pieces together and somehow managed to find out his real last name. Makishima was not untouchable after all, he could make mistakes like Toma, like any human being. And she found the concern in his voice strange, yet especially the doubt.

“He had been conducting his own investigation since long before the Specimen Case. He had clues about a mastermind behind everything, including Toma himself. That’s how he was able to link you.”

“Is that all?”

Yashiro sighed, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Of course I do. We were playing on the same side of the board, though each of us had different reasons for making a move. Had you attempted to destroy me; you would have fallen along with me.”

Yashiro looked to the side slowly shaking her head, “So this is all a game for you after all. Sasayama was right. Who are you playing with now? Have you found a new piece?”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t. But I’m sure I will,” Makishima assured, making a long pause and tilting his head slightly to the side.

“You don’t want to change this world; you just want to leave it in the dark. Since you can’t find happiness, you long to take it away from everyone else. The Sibyl System never recognized your existence, so you’re eager to burn it down and be a witness to its own destruction.”

He got lost in her eyes for the thousandth time and leaned gently forward, “You can always stop me, Yashiro. Would you ever force me to stop? Would you ever take my freedom from me?”

“No. No… I would not.”

They remained silent for a long time when Makishima suddenly whispered, “You were wrong about happiness, for when I am with you...”

She raised her eyebrows unable to utter a single word. He slowly shook his head until he finally allowed himself to smile, and only after half a minute when he turned to the lake, did he decide to continue, "I still wonder why you couldn’t finish Toma off when you had the chance, considering you could have ended it all.”

Yashiro closed her eyes and turned to the lake in front of her just like he did. She took a deep breath squeezing her hands on the railing and suddenly frowned, “You’re wrong. Sasayama would have put two and two together until Rikako, you and your patron were found guilty.”

“But there is something else, isn’t it?” His quiet voice echoed in her ears.

Yashiro opened her eyes again unable to exchange a glance with him, searching in different directions, “He was there when no one else was.”

“And what is he to you now, knowing everything he has done?”

Yashiro slowly shook her head. His expression had been strangely transformed instead; he was observing her with narrowed eyes and there was a barely perceptible smile on his face, as if he were holding back so as not to display such a vulnerable gesture.

“I only got to know _Dr Jekyll_ ; I don’t know him anymore.”

“I like to think we all have a _Mr Hyde_ within us, Yashiro,” Makishima raised his head a few inches. “It’s up to you to embrace it.”

Yashiro was lost in the water, the sun reflecting a strange gleam in her eyes. Her hands relaxed on the railing, and she could not help but confess almost in a whisper, “I won’t ever forget the things he did, but I will remember him as the friend he was.”

Makishima’s eyes slowly opened and for a moment they were both silent.

“You really have the rare gift of finding light in the darkest places, Yashiro.”

“And you have the rare gift of finding darkness in the lightest ones.”

A smile began to slightly cover his lips, and he narrowed his eyes with tenderness. Then, Yashiro smiled back and rested a forearm on the railing, “We never fully get to know people, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps that’s precisely what makes them fascinating… beautifully unpredictable.”

Yashiro felt strangely absorbed by that look and nodded in response, “Tell me you found something with Sasayama so his death was not in vain.”

“It was not my move, but that of a partner of mine indeed,” he answered with a sudden smirk. “I haven’t introduced you… would you like to join us this afternoon so you can meet him?”

Yashiro arched an eyebrow. Makishima had never introduced her to anyone before, and she wondered why he wanted to do so then, what he needed from her. Yashiro believed it might be something interesting, although he was probably planning to use her in the end. She was suddenly curious about the partner he was talking about and replied, “I would.”


	4. 3

As they walked through the streets of Tokyo, a large hologram with a happy woman’s face flashed on one of the buildings, and it seamlessly transitioned to a sanctuary. Yashiro stopped to raise her head in its direction. People passed by her and continued on their way. Only one of them turned around with an arched eyebrow and stood next to her, glancing at what had caught her attention.

“Have you enjoyed that power?” He asked with a deep, enveloping voice like that of someone speaking in an auditorium.

“I was not aware I had one.”

“Think of what those in these sects preach: personal… selflessness. Don’t you think that’s what you’ve been doing all these years? They wouldn’t accept your motives, but motives don’t alter facts. You never cared about becoming a mirror. The voices themselves changed the reflection. Naturally, you gained reputation. Does it change reality? Suppose you wanted to help your classmates out of pure altruism. Isn’t that what you did in the end?”

A wind that neither of them was able to stop had risen, and the waves were already too high. She dived in, “In order to express the opinions, the desires they lacked or did not truly want to admit, I abandoned my ego. And they accepted me, they freely supported me by looking for me in the corridors of the academy, wanting to know what I thought about issues that concerned them. Reflections, you say? They have represented everyone but me.”

He looked at her in silence for a while. His eyes slowly opened as if he had just witnessed an explosion in the distance. She looked down instead, her body sinking like stone; it was the first time she had ever admitted that to anyone—she had not even done it with Rikako or Toma. But what surprised her most was that she had never done so with herself before. The quiet sense of power he was talking about had been always there nonetheless, though she had actually never used it. He felt it too.

“That’s not what they—and even the Sibyl System, may I say—think about altruism. They would claim that you shouldn’t let people decide on their own free will. You should be the one to do so. You should determine what you think they should like; your own idea of good and evil. It would have to be by force, for they have freely chosen already.”

“I am not an altruist. I do not like to decide for others.”

“What you think of God, Yashiro?”

“I do not think of God.”

There was an involuntary grin on his face, and after several seconds he allowed himself to let out a slow, deep laugh that caused a lighting up of his eyes.

“Being Sibyl a global life-long welfare support system that embraces every aspect of human life, people no longer need to cling to religion. An atheist, then?”

Yashiro shook her head with a peaceful expression. He was not the first to ask that question, and he would not be the last.

"Since my mother was a Catholic, she taught me everything she knew. So I used to pray when I was a child for my father to leave us alone or even... have an accident. It never happened. It just got worst. As I grew up, I knew it was myself the one who had to do something if I wanted change. My mother did not think the same; she kept using religion to hide our problems. People seek shelter in gods. I find it in friends."

Yashiro attentively looked at him out of the corner of her eye; his calm expression was somewhat victorious, for he had managed to convey to her the strange peace that surrounded him, so that she would let her guard down in his presence without even realizing it.

“There are people who consider Sibyl a god and are devoted to it, believing its judgements to be of divine origin,” he looked up the hologram again.

She instantly grimaced, “How can you cling to a system that takes innocent lives but allows certain individuals to get away with murder? What are the principles governing this system of justice in which they find themselves ensnared?

“I reject any form of faith or belief in the supernatural, including God, as well as religious moral teachings, which order man to obey authority rather than to pursue his own rational interests. Reason leads to freedom and faith leads to force.

“A man who understands that reason is an absolute will demand his inalienable right to think and live for himself. This people, on the contrary… not only seem to accept their executioner, but to seek him out and esteem him…”

“Most people eventually take the blame for the crime they have allegedly committed, because they have no choice; they are so pressured by their beloved Justice, that they end up believing they are murders, thieves or worse. In the end, they don’t resist their inevitable execution.

“Sibyl has discovered the key to ruling people: by breaking their souls so that they can only be filled with the system itself. Destroying their ideals so they will obey because they cannot trust themselves anymore. Providing them with everything so they will need it as their leader, their God. Preaching sacrifice and self-denial like in the past.

“Creating a world of obedience and union where no one will have thoughts, desires of their own. Everyone must agree with everyone and accept each other. You’ve seen it yourself at the academy: those students guided by public surveys to find a career, rather than by their own personal preferences. The only thing they seek is prestige, fame, recognition; that is, to be accepted by others, at the price of self-respect. Isn’t that true altruism?

“The end of reason, for no individuality can be allowed to exist. Everyone lives sacrificing for everyone. Progress stops and everything stagnates. An equality in which people are subordinated to the desires of others.”

Makishima stopped to glance at something in the distance. His eyes narrowed and fixed on the slender shape of the tall NONA tower, owned by the Ministry of Health and Welfare. The same building that she had always considered a Benthamian panopticon, for it seemed to be watching from above the sky. And then she focused on the man who challenged his environment with the eyes; he seemed as graciously as an aristocrat in a luxurious restaurant in Tokyo, yet at no time did he insult the place, for he could make a palace out of any house he entered.

There was something almost magical about this man that would not let her look away. Standing on his own again, what those amber eyes glimpsed was inexplicable, and she had never seen it in anyone else; the loneliness that he hid had transformed him into an individual completely willing to follow his ideals, and Yashiro risked saying that he would also be able to die for them. Despite being a wonderful life, he did not feel at home. His closest friends were strangers, his family was distant or nonexistent.

“Reminds me of an old novel by Philip K. Dick,” she put her hands on her black coat. “ _This whole structure is like a giant torture chamber_. Everybody staring at one another trying to find fault, trying to break one another down. The stress. The tension. The guilt and suspicion. The fear of committing an indecent act or having a too high psycho pass. Censorship. Banning books and art. We sure know one thing about Sibyl: that _it was invented by sick minds, and it creates more sick minds._ ”

“And who would believe that an individual who seeks to be involved in the maintenance of society’s ethical standard is, herself, _morally defective_? What would that say about this society?”

“They would refuse to believe it instead; they would say that it is just an individual devoted to public service, our welfare and the improvement of our society.”

“You did consider turning yourself in to the MWPSB,” he squinted at her, his frown slightly scowling with a hint of accusation. “ _Everyone strives to attain the Law_. Was that your way of seeking admittance? What made you change your mind? Are you perhaps… afraid of the gatekeeper closing the door right behind you?”

Yashiro blinked a couple of times looking in different directions. He had the uncanny ability to know what she was thinking and she had never been able to get used to it. It was like walking down the street barefoot. You could do it all day long, but you would still feel the cold, uncomfortable pavement under your skin.

“I think I won’t ever find answers if I cross the gate as Yashiro Takahashi. But I think I could gain entry if I cross it as… an inspector.”

They kept walking until they finally reached a tall building and took the elevator. Makishima led her to a huge and beautiful living room; the floor was bright as if someone were constantly cleaning it and a large window displayed the city, which he went to as if seeking inspiration. They could see the NONA tower rise from there, as well as many other imposing skyscrapers. When Yashiro finished inspecting the place and noticed his absence, she turned to look for him.

"You never felt small looking at the sky."

He blinked dreamily, raising his head a few inches for an instant as if he had been pinched.

"When I look up, I think of the man who created an airplane to conquer that meaningless space."

Yashiro took a step forward but held back, her face suddenly brightened by a smile, "And the special feeling that many say they feel when contemplating nature… I have never received it from nature... but from buildings and skyscrapers."

"When I look at the city below from this very window, I don't think of God. I think of the men and women who created them; the human will in physical form. I don't have the sense of my own smallness, but the sense that if anything were to threaten all of this..."

"You would risk your life protecting it," she whispered to herself as he gazed at the cars below, that were like blurry black dots in constant motion. "Because this is all you have. Your only shelter... and prison too."

Yashiro’s voice was remarkably low and soft, almost imperceptible, but as solid and accusatory as that of a relentless judge. After several seconds, he turned around to give her an everlasting smile and narrowed his eyes. Only then, in a manner as fleeting and ordinary as a conversation among old friends, and at the same time as solemn and cordial as an official declaration of the gravest importance, he blurted out, "I have you."

Yashiro was silent for a long time, looking at him as a drunken sailor at a land in the distance; her sigh was so used to the emptiness of the sea, that she did not truly know whether it was an island, another ship or a blur produced by her then tired mind. As soon as words echoed in her head, she opened her lips, yet not a single sentence could come out of her mouth. Suddenly a few steps resonated across the room, and Makishima put his hands in his pants pockets as he looked over her shoulder, hardening his expression.

“You must be Yashiro Takahashi,” stated a deep, male voice behind her.

Yashiro turned around and arched an eyebrow, forced to raise her head to look at the thin man who came out of another room. He had short brown hair with long bangs hanging over the right side of his face. She squinted at those bi-colored eyes, which were barely open to reveal the red and yellow iris, yet they seemed to be watching her from head to toe. They might have damaged at some point in his life, so he needed to replace them with artificial ones.

“Shougo has told me a lot about you,” the man leaned slightly with politeness. “My name is Choe Gu-sung.”

She imitated the gesture casting a fleeting scowl at Makishima, and the man walked toward them with a round silver tray which had two white cups with golden lines, and many madeleines. As he bent down to put it on the table, she noticed that his right ear was pierced. He then sat on one of the two armchairs which at first glance seemed comfortable, with his legs stretched out and his body leaning back. There was a tablet and a dark bottle on the small square table between. Makishima allowed her to sit in the only armchair left.

Even though they had walked so far, she was not tired, as she was used to walking. Seeing Makishima standing next to them with his own cup was like being at a game just about to start, and he for the first time was an observer rather than someone who was part of the game. She returned to the table and could not help but take a look at the screen on. There was a title and cover of a movie she instantly recognized despite the distance, and suddenly a smile lit up her entire face making her look younger than she really was, even though the man turned the screen off at that moment, “ _Minority Report_? I take it you are the type who is into cyberpunk stuff.”

He frowned for a second and smiled like a high school student in love.

“A girl of good taste.”

Choe Gu-sung’s appearance instilled respect and in a certain way experience. The silence that opened up between the three of them only aggravated the tension that such an imperceptible yet intense gaze produced. Even so, Yashiro did not look away and studied his style; he was wearing a black jacket and red pants, and when he took a sip from his bottle, she then realized that he was analyzing her as well, though in a quiet and respectful way.

“Not the type for eye contact, are you?” The man asked out of the blue.

Yashiro made circular movements with the cup in one hand and observed the liquid inside, “That depends on the person and how much you trust them.”

She felt the amber eyes suddenly fixing on her, and took a sip from her tea.

“It means you never turn your back on anybody… unless you know that person won’t betray you… someone worthy of your trust,” Yashiro smiled back and he let out a dry, hoarse laugh that lasted several seconds, and echoed throughout the room. “I figure you don’t trust the Sibyl System as much.”

Yashiro grinned at him while he opened his eyes further, “You cannot wait for a system or a security force to save you. There is no time to make a call when someone is about to kill you. And even if our system has managed to anticipate crime… do you really feel comfortable leaving your life in the hands of someone or something else?”

“You are too smart for your own good. And pretty much distrustful. Has anybody ever told you that?”

Yashiro was silent for a while. She remembered her days at the academy. The way people felt comfortable when she was around; how they believed she considered everyone her friend. But she had never shared her feelings with others, she had always answered what they wanted to hear, no more and no less. She had never told them lies, for they were not looking for a truth either, but for words to convince them of their own lies.

“Not really. You must be the first. Maybe… because you do not usually turn your back on people either.”

The amusing smile that had covered his lips until then was suddenly gone; Makishima himself turned to look at his partner slightly raising his eyebrows. The latter had to clear his throat, and it took him a few seconds to laugh. It was a strange one; as if it were not usual for him to do so in front of others or was too tired.

“I was born in Korea,” he blurted out looking down his bottle, as if taking her as someone to whom he could confess anything. “But the moment I got here I didn’t understand how you deal with a system that can even wipe you out just by being stressed. How can you feel so confident walking down the street without being able to defend yourself? Maybe that’s why I never quite fit in.”

Yashiro nodded her head. She had imagined the color of his hue the moment she entered that room, for people with standard hues would not be with someone like Makishima. She was sure he was a latent criminal, or someone close to being one. His words made her stretch backwards, however, and she looked down in silence for a few moments until she whispered, “I know how it feels. I do not have a bond with this city either.”

“You’re such a traitor,” Choe Gu-sung shook his head with a grimace, then suddenly smiled.

Yashiro felt her chest swell with air and held her breath. He did feel the same. He had probably gone through that as a child the moment he left his homeland searching for a new future, and she found her way out at last.

“What is your concept of country? A territory? The set of people you have to live with, even if you do not agree with their decisions, their lack of action? Or your friends? Your family?

“I cannot stand it when they put a State above individual wills, as if each person were an instrument forced to perpetuate a symphony that does not consent.

“And to top it all off, if you stand out and say you want to take a different path, they will point at you on the street like mad dogs calling you a traitor. Traitor! How dare you leave this land when it needs you most, how can you turn your back on the land where you were born!

“Everyone has the right to seek happiness wherever they want. If they cannot find it in the place where they were born, they should be allowed to do so elsewhere. Even if they are wrong and truly live in a paradise; they should be free to make mistakes.”

The man nodded softly and slowly for a long time, until he decided to ask, “This country doesn’t suit you, miss. Why are you still here?”

“I have questions of my own that I want to answer. And you, Mr.?” Yashiro paused and slowly raised her eyebrows. “You are interested in the Sibyl System as well. You want to know its mechanism; how does it classify people by psycho pass. And you are not willing to leave until you get to the truth by yourself—”

“Interesting,” he turned to Makishima leaving the bottle on the table. His sudden smirk was somewhat curious. “The profiling.”

Yashiro looked at Makishima—whose gaze fixed on her—and then back at him. They seemed to be talking to each other with their eyes, and she was not part of that conversation. For a moment they were all silent and as soon as the man looked at her again, she shrugged her shoulders, “I just like to observe.”

“And how close do you think you can really get at a glance?”

“We’ve had enough of playing detective. I do not think I am here for that anyway,” Yashiro rolled her eyes and took another sip from her cup. “Am I right, Makishima?”

Only then did he come closer to reach a madeleine, and she had a sudden feeling that brought her back to her academy days once again, having to blink strongly to remove that memory from her mind. His expression softened the moment he turned to the window, as if he had expected such a question, “And why do you think you are here?”

Yashiro finally left the empty cup on the tray making a rather loud noise on its surface.

“Because you still owe me an answer.”

“About?”

“Mitsuru Sasayama,” with her elbow now on the armrest, she rested her cheek on her fist and stared at Choe, “I was told you have found something about him.”

He was looking at her with a dazed, almost drowsy smile as a child listening to a story before going to sleep. Yashiro felt like a sculpture being studied by an expert. Then he suddenly uttered, “Tell me my profile.”

“Why would I do that?”

“So you fill a report for your superiors,” he released a chuckle. “I just want to know the way you see things.”

Yashiro sighed as she looked straight into his eyes, silent for several seconds as if watching something right behind him or nothing at all, “You sneak. You do not like to be in the same place twice. You may have fun with some pretty girl and the next day you disappear, because you do not want to be recognized. Leave any trace. That’s why you need him; a man to show his face instead of yours. If Makishima is the orchestrator, then you are the one who stays off the stage spreading the invitation to the performance.”

Makishima was smiling with his eyes lost in the tea. Choe Gu-sung was still immersed on her studying her features.

“Tell me about your friends. Do they know you as well as you know them?” He asked defiantly, making her purse her lips and turn to the window. “Do they know you could kill them in a second with that Glock?”

Yashiro opened her eyes further, and returned to him like an exposed cat ready to fight against the one from the next house. She shook her head with a barely perceptible grimace as she placed part of her coat over her leg to hide the gun, a reaction that made him laugh in a low voice.

“You’re no ordinary thief; I can tell you had training. Shougo didn’t teach you how to use it, so I bet someone in your family did…” his voice trailed off as soon as her iron eyes pierced him like a piece of cloth, and he deeply sighed making a long pause. “You’re like a doctor; you can cure everyone but the only patient who refuses to see the disease is yourself.

“Now, about that enforcer… you may know that a cymatic scan reads a person’s biological reactions and records their hues. But we don’t really know how the data from the scans are processed. That’s why I figured we should start first on determining which part of the brain a cymatic scan focuses on.”

Yashiro raised her eyebrows without bothering to hide her curiosity, and stayed silent for a few seconds. Makishima was waiting, analyzing the way she reacted to her environment. He knew that she was no longer a student, and was not protected by the walls and management of an academy.

“The one related to emotions, I suppose?”

“I might be able to work on a way to fool the scans. I can make a device that obstructs them, or some kind of drug that creates a false psycho pass.”

“You mean stimulants.”

He rested an ankle over the opposite knee, “Precisely.”

“Sounds kind of tricky.”

“The harder a game is, the more fun it is to play; and I have no intention of giving up.”

Yashiro stayed looking at him, the way his lips curved into a mischievous, rebellious smirk. He might be in his forties, yet he looked younger than many of her former classmates. He was not a man who lacked motives in his life or who was driven by public opinion. He was looking for something and was convinced he would find it. His engine was constantly on, waiting for every possible opportunity that came his way.

“You are really a genius, Mr.—"

“Call me Choe.”

She remained silent for a while, until she finally got up from the armchair with a fleeting frown to go to the window. Glances followed her across the room, yet she did not care at all and leaned forward to watch the city below. Choe reminded her of one of those hackers she had read about when she was a kid.

There was something about that man; she had felt it before. It was a feeling shared by probably most of latent criminals and people who were about to turn black. She then half opened her lips; envy and resentment. Two of the worst things a human being can have, for they denote a great lack of self-esteem, and have been the driving forces behind all kinds of crimes throughout history.

“There haven’t been many improvements in neuroscience,” explained Makishima leaving his cup on the tray. “Live human experimentation is the key.”

She frowned blinking a couple of times, then turned to cast a glance at him out of the corner of her eye in a sudden deep voice, “I will not help you find pigs so you can cut their heads open.”

“I knew you would say that. You haven’t changed.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I may want to find out Sibyl’s mysteries as well, but I am not doing it for you. And I am not following your way of doing things either.”

“Of course you’re not!” He gently shook his head with a chuckle. “I would be disappointed if your actions were based on the desires of someone else, and somehow you always succeed in surprising.”

Choe Gu-sung arched an eyebrow, his voice timidly high-pitched at first, and his face growing visibly amused by a fight he did not fully get, as it only belonged to them, “Did I… miss something?”

“You both know that unless you physically infiltrate the system’s core, you would never fully understand its mechanism, don’t you?”

“We would need someone working within the MWPSB,” emphasized Choe. “And we don’t have anybody.”

“What’s on your mind, Yashiro?”

“Not sure… for now.”


	5. 4

On such a sunny and windless day, people who had not yet gone to work or university took advantage of the warm hours to have breakfast outside their homes and find out the latest news. Checking that the coffee shop they had gone to was the right one, Nobuchika Ginoza continued walking followed by two enforcers until he recognized the woman who gave a meaning to their journey.

“Excuse me miss, are you Annaisha Ishikawa?”

The young woman turned around, her smile was warm and natural and did not hesitate to answer, “I am. Who’s asking?”

The man with glasses displayed his holographic identification and Annaisha leaned forward to read it, as did the brown-haired man sitting in front of her who seemed to be her boyfriend. She had a strong yet pleasant perfume on her neck and her blond hair was tumbling over her shoulders.

“Inspector Nobuchika Ginoza, from the Criminal Investigation Department. We have some questions to ask you.”

At first the girl raised her eyebrows exchanging a glance with the young man, who only shrugged his shoulders. They seemed to be studying, for there was a tablet on the wooden table.

“They are from the Public Safety Bureau,” she remarked as if trying to make sure they were truly there.

“I understand. Well, I’ll leave you alone while I go order two coffees,” her boyfriend kissed her goodbye and entered the coffee shop.

Annaisha offered the men to sit in front of her, and only then did the inspector continue, “We are sorry to have to come to you, but we have checked with other teachers without getting anything revealing.”

“It’s all right. What is it you need to know?”

“Since you were a student at Ousou Academy, specifically the class that had Kozaburo Toma as a social science teacher, we think you can help us with more information about him.”

When Annaisha heard the name of her former teacher, she pursed her lips closing her eyes for a second. It still remained a taboo subject for them.

“Why are you still digging into him if his murders have stopped?” She asked with a trembling voice.

Masaoka took his hands out of his trench coat pockets, and rested one forearm on the wooden table. His features softened as he began to explain, even though the sturdiness of his body did not usually make a good first impression, “Kozaburo Toma has been missing for a while. We believe he may have had accomplices—"

“It can’t be! It’s terrible that a man like him walks loose in the streets."

“That is why we need your help,” Inspector Ginoza’s smooth voice did not match the emotionless of his face. “Does anyone come to mind? A colleague? A friend, perhaps?”

Annaisha gently shook her head, her gaze fixed on the wooden surface as if it were hard for her to further reflect on the matter.

“He was very kind, a good teacher. Everyone knew him at the academy. But he never talked to us about his private life. Now that I think of it, he was very reserved.”

“Someone must know something about him, or have seen anything off,” Masaoka put a hand on his chin. “Considering that he was as outgoing as everyone says.”

“Maybe …” her voice trailed off. After a long pause, she looked up widening her eyes. “In fact, I believe there is only one student who may know something about him, because he was very talkative with her.”

Ginoza suddenly raised his head a few centimeters, “Who is she?”

“Her name is… Yashiro.”

Ginoza’s green eyes sparkled, but it was Kougami who shot back first, “Yashiro? You mean Yashiro Takahashi?”

Annaisha frowned and her lips trembled at her own words, as if she could not believe them herself.

“He was reserved with everyone but her. She was his favorite student after all, the only one who understood his weird jokes. I always thought they had some kind of… relationship.”

The three faces completely darkened in front of her, and for a few seconds they no longer heard the conversations of the tables around them.

“Miss Takahashi never told us she was a friend of his,” Masaoka exchanged a look with Kougami. “Do you think she might be helping him?”

It was then that Annaisha stretched back in her seat and cast an accusing glance at him, “What? Of course not! She would never do such thing.”

“Are you certain?”

“I would trust her with my life.”

They remained silent for a few seconds; her tone had been as firm and confident as that of a woman who had nothing to lose, even though she was studying and had her whole life ahead of her.

“Let’s not make any rash assumptions,” the inspector cut the oldest enforcer off. “Remember that she was a friend of Miss Kirino.”

“You sure of that, Gino?” Kougami mumbled inhaling deeply into his cigarette.

Masaoka’s voice rose like that of a man in the last seat, who really has the last words, “It doesn’t explain why she hid her relationship from the MWPSB. If Miss Kirino was a friend of hers, she would have provided us with any information.”

“Unless there wasn’t any!” Annaisha blurted out with a scowl. “Sorry. I just can’t believe you think she would help a criminal and a murderer like that man.”

Kougami took the cigarette from his lips and kept it lit between his fingers, smoke spilling out of his nostrils in whirls of air, “There is no man with integrity. People change.”

“Not Yashiro.”

There was a sudden silence in which the only one who smiled was Masaoka, and somehow, he managed to convey that same warmth to the young woman, who seemed to relax her body in the seat. Although she was not accused of anything, the fact that her friend became a suspect made her feel guilty, as if she owed her life.

“You’re thinking like a friend of hers,” Kougami rebuked her with a disappointed tone.

He suddenly got up to throw the cigarette into one of the nearest garbage cans. He looked like a child who cannot stay still for a single moment, since he wants to learn everything about the new world.

“Of course I am! It’s because I know her that I’m sure she wouldn’t betray a friend of hers, but above all, she wouldn’t get involved with that man. She would report him at once even if her hue became clouded in the process.”

“We are enforcers, miss,” uttered Masaoka with an almost fatherly voice, getting up as well. “We don’t think like cops or friends, but like criminals.”

“What will happen to her now?” She asked staring at the table, certainly hunched over.

Her boyfriend had returned and had a cup of coffee in each hand. Ginoza nodded his head and gave him the seat, “We are just looking for information. We really appreciate your help.”

They had turned around to leave when the young woman’s voice assured behind them, “You are wrong about her. She is not a criminal. You know… when the fire at the academy happened, it was thanks to Yashiro that we were able to organize ourselves to get out and get to safety. If she hadn’t been there at the right time, I don’t really know how it would have ended.”

“History is riddled with false messiahs,” Kougami muttered as he bowed his head to light another cigarette.

They went to the police car, and when Ginoza started the engine of the vehicle, he raised his arm to make a call with the communicator on his wrist, while different holograms were turned on displaying information about the car and its current position.

“Shion, can you send us Yashiro Takahashi’s address?”

The feminine voice made its way into the car, brightening up the atmosphere in the particular way that only she was able to do, “You mean the miracle girl from a couple of years before?”

“Indeed.”

The analyst instantly sent them the address, which was transferred to the vehicle’s main holographic screen.

An addictive smell filled the apartment as Yashiro prepared her backpack on the table. Then she turned around and rushed to turn off the coffee maker when she saw that the dark liquid was about to spill. All the steam came out of the machine making a loud gurgling sound. As she leaned on the kitchen counter, she grabbed the cup bringing it closer to her nose. She almost took a sip when she heard a meow, and looked down to find her white cat heading for the apartment door. His green eyes focused on the door as he sat down. When the noise from the coffee maker died down, a few knocks on the door broke the silence.

Yashiro frowned and left the cup on the counter, walking toward it to slowly open it. She was not expecting anyone, but assumed it would be one of her neighbors. Instead, there were three men in the corridor that she recognized immediately, since those eyes were hard to forget. And yet, she did not let them in until one of them displayed his identification hologram, “Inspector Nobuchika Ginoza. We are here to ask you some questions.”

Yashiro stepped aside and the agents walked to the small dining room. Then she slowly closed the door and turned to the unexpected guests, her face covered with a cordial yet faint smile as she took her backpack off the table and laid it on the floor, so as to invite them to sit down with a polite gesture. They instantly recognized that there was no holographic system installed and no food printer, and they found it strange that someone as young as Yashiro would like to live there, surrounded by older people and without security cameras.

Yashiro kept her cat fed and loved, on whose collar _Franklin_ was engraved, and who at that moment watched them suspiciously and attentively from a corner. Masaoka arched an eyebrow; some things did not add up even though everything was clean and orderly, like the fact that when he looked at the balcony that was wide open, he came to see that on the railing there was a glass half-full of orange juice, as if she had passed by there and had completely forgotten about it. He thought that if it were a windy day, that glass might fall on someone’s head.

First thing Kougami noticed, however, was the absence of all human life. It was as if Yashiro had moved in a few days ago, since there were no paintings, plants or decorations of any kind. Not even a family photo. The state of her room seemed similar, because from there he came to see a single made bed. It was probably one of those people who made their bed as soon as they got up. Suddenly, he had a sense of déjà vu while turning to Yashiro again, then remembered Kozaburo Toma’s apartment.

It had been a few seconds, but the moment Masaoka turned around to look at his inspector and Yashiro, he realized that the latter had remained silent as if she had known they would carry out such a sneaky inspection, one that was not really part of their daily work but was done unconsciously. And then he understood that they had lost the element of surprise since they had entered that apartment.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” Yashiro asked as she picked up her cup again and extended it toward them, putting her free hand in her black jeans pocket. “Would you like some coffee?”

Ginoza was the only one who sat shaking his head and putting both hands on the table. Kougami had his hands in the pockets of his gray coat, and underneath he was wearing his inspector’s shirt and tie. He did not sit down and stood there, watching her with an impassive look that she did not remember about him. He had a cigarette on his lips and a cloud forming around him. She did not remember him smoking. Masaoka was standing right beside him staring back at her; there was a kind expression on his face, but she felt even more tested by his brown eyes than Kougami’s.

“You must remember Kozaburo Toma, who was a teacher at the Ousou Academy until a month ago,” Ginoza started to say.

Yashiro tilted her head to the side for a second, “He was my social science teacher.”

“And also the criminal force in the murders that took place recently.”

“I remember. I must assume that the whole thing was over with his capture.”

Yashiro remained in the same place, not at all affected by the three men in that room. Masaoka was accustomed to a culprit pretending or showing aggression, but she did neither, and he could not help but frown. Ginoza seemed to realize that too, for his tone grew impatient as he continued, “Kozaburo Toma has disappeared and we believe that he did not commit the murders alone.”

Yashiro stared at the liquid in her cup with a somber expression. For a fraction of a second she squinted one of her eyes, then looked up again with slightly raised eyebrows.

“We need to know more about him,” Kougami blurted out.

Yashiro shrugged her shoulders and shook her head a couple of times. Then she slightly curled her lip for a fleeting second, “How can you be so sure that there are accomplices?”

“Toma didn’t know anything about chemistry to use the resin, and didn’t have as much money to buy the instruments and materials.”

Ginoza cast an accusing glance at Kougami and turned to her, “We have already asked other teachers and students but no one knows anything about him, as if he had ceased to exist.”

Yashiro took a sip of coffee making a long pause.

“Professor Toma was a very sociable person. Everybody esteemed him. You would never think that someone like him would commit such murders. I still cannot believe he is responsible,” she frowned for a second. “I do not think he had any friends, though.”

“And why is that?” Kougami wanted to know, his voice was clear and calm.

“He got a little weird sometimes. And even though he talked to everyone and smiled all the time, it seemed to me that he was just pretending. A two-faced man, if you ask me.”

“Clearly,” Kougami sneered at her.

Ginoza shook his head when he looked at him, and Kougami took a few steps toward her to blow a puff of smoke. Yashiro squinted at the smell, but stared at him as if in a duel. Then the inspector turned to Yashiro and sighed, “So you do not know much about him either.”

Yashiro had finally finished drinking her coffee, and left the cup on the counter to look at him with a barely perceptible half smile.

“I am afraid not. Have you tried asking his relatives?”

“No family,” the gray eyes were stuck in hers, glowing in a somewhat peculiar way that made her blink. “Lucky man.”

Inspector Ginoza suddenly stood up placing gently one of his hands on the table, what surprised both of them equally, “We are leaving. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. If you have more information or find out something, do not hesitate to contact us.”

Yashiro raised her head slightly in his direction, and widened her eyes as she approached them. Masaoka realized that she had never turned her back on them in all that time, nor had she taken her eyes off them, as if preparing for an ambush of some kind. It made him feel strange, as if he were the looter and she the victim instead.

“Of course. I will let you know right away,” she assured him with the same natural voice. “And do not think twice about coming if you have any more questions.”

They went to the door of the apartment and Yashiro bade them farewell with a faint smile, perceiving the gray eyes trying to pierce her like the blade of a knife. However, as soon as she was alone again her face withered and she walked to the balcony to observe the black car parked below and the three agents getting into it. A few seconds later they turned on the lights and drove slowly away.

Only then did she put on her black coat, leaving it open over the dark blue sweater that slightly accentuated her body. She had left it hanging on a chair while she was making coffee, but she almost always wore it when she went out. Then she picked up her backpack off the floor to leave the apartment, as she had done every morning since she had started her college life.

A short but sturdy old man greeted her in the corridor with an alarmed look. He had barely run a few meters and was already panting; she could see the glow of sweat on his double chin. He was one of her neighbors, “Those three men were cops, right? What were they doing at this hour, miss?”

Yashiro gave him a reassuring smile.

“They just asked a few questions about a man who is on the run. Nothing to worry about.”

“One man falls, we all fall,” the old man stated, almost in a whisper. “Can’t trust anyone these days, so if something comes up let us know and we’re all out.”

She knew that he had an old Smith & Wesson revolver and that he probably carried it hidden in a pocket inside his green jacket. One of the first days she had moved into the building, the man had told her that two men had broken into his apartment, and even after stealing a couple of things from them, they beat both him and his wife and then ran away. The woman was still in therapy. Her psycho pass had not fully recovered.

Yashiro placed a hand on his shoulder for a few seconds, and thanked him by looking straight into his eyes, without the same smile as before. Then she walked away until she left the building, and melted into the incessant pace of people as she had done lately, putting her hands into the pockets of her black coat.


	6. 5

In the fitness room composed of different exercise machines, continuous knuckle and elbow strikes resounded against the punching bag. Kougami Shinya was dressed only in black pants, and the sweat from both his chest and face indicated the time and effort. When he was training, he could forget about everything, since he had to maintain his balance and coordination to perfectly match the blows.

Little by little they were increasing in intensity and above all, violence. He grimaced, suddenly imagining that the punching bag was a blurred and unrecognizable face, whose shape he created to give a reason to his then painful fists. A chill permeated his bones even though his entire body was bathed in sweat, and his chest swelled with air that rose to his throat, as if he were drowning without ever reaching death. Leaning forward, he gave a brutal kick in order to make the image disappear.

A few minutes later, when his body had stopped shaking like a dog in a storm, he went to drink water from a bottle he had taken out of the fridge in the same room, and poured almost all the liquid into his head as a female voice returned to his mind, along with her cold handsome face, _“How can you be so sure that there are accomplices?”_

It was Yashiro Takahashi. Instead of directly offering information about Kozaburo Toma, she had shown interest in the possibility of accomplices. Slowly, he walked into a small room filled with cigarette smoke, and stood in front of a wall that would be almost completely empty, if it were not for a couple of photographs and notations like hieroglyphics pinned to its surface. Among them was the only blurred, unintelligible one taken of a suspect.

Kougami turned around and went to the white investigation board by the door, which was similar to what the old detectives used to have. He grabbed a black marker, and proceeded to add one more name. It was Yashiro Takahashi, which he attached with an arrow to that of Kozaburo Toma and Toko Kirino. Stretching his black, soggy hair back with the fingertips of the other hand, he wrote a question mark between the two students. Then, he simply took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, releasing a deep puff of smoke in front of him.

A figure of his own height was analyzing the clues behind him, but without ever giving an opinion about them. They were the clues that he himself had obtained before him. However, that day he spoke for the first time with a cigarette between his lips, “She knows you suspect her. You’re digging into something you have no control over, just like I did. Be careful, Ko.”

“I know. But I’m not alone. I have help. I’m sorry I took that away from you.”

The buildings and skyscrapers rose on each side of the highway. Yashiro could not help but look at her rational world with her elbow rested on the door car, and her cheek in her closed hand, a smile dancing on her lips as if she were about to fall asleep. Thanks to the Sibyl System and a harsh policy of isolation, Japan succeeded in escaping global strife and became the only peaceful nation. But what was the cost? Had they left anything behind on their path to perfection?

“In order to rid man of crime, you must fully suppress his freedom,” Yashiro uttered with a dreamy voice. “We have only two choices then—happiness without freedom, or freedom without happiness. What would you choose, Choe? Will you take the blue one or the red one?”

He twisted his lips to the left in a never-ending mocking smile. The dark circles beneath his eyes were still there and gave him a somewhat peculiar expression—which added to his clenched jaw and then immobile body, resembled that of a teenager remembering the first time he had ever evaded the law.

“The red one—always. But both terms are inseparable. How can you enjoy a predetermined life? How can you live a life that you don’t live for yourself? Is that true happiness? Or is it a lie instead?”

“They have never experienced the feeling of making a right or wrong decision. When people make choices, they ask for Sibyl’s judgment instead of agonizing over the consequences. I dare say that not once did they think of a second choice. He who does anything because it is the custom, or because it has been recommended to him… makes no choice.

“If there is no independent judgment, the conscience is suspended. And you cannot give a meaning to life if you do not have consciousness. Maybe that is what I never got to understand about people. What prevented me from spending more time than necessary with others. They are like cars without engines. They give their opinions without first having gone through a process of reasoning and doubt.”

The man on the wheel relaxed his face without looking away from the front.

“I think they realize that about themselves, too. They still have some dignity left because they’re human beings. Notice how they instantly recognize the one who is independent. See how they condemn a man simply because of the greatness of his free choice. I tell you they would be able to forgive Sibyl or accept dictators—but they would hate someone who steps out of line, who isn’t governed, because they’re everything they can’t be.”

Yashiro nodded her head and blinked with a sudden fleeting half smile.

“They know they are their strictest judge—for there is no point in lying to yourself—and so they run from themselves. They spend their lives running… and accept the Sibyl System because it fills that empty space inside of their hearts. Self-aware individuals seeking freedom remind them of what they do not have. The most important thing they have lost—or allowed to disappear.

“Now I understand what I always recognized at once from people. What makes me choose friends not with a huge fishing net, but with an arrow. Men who seek to be an end in themselves… not a means to the ends of others. Those who have goals, who recognize no authority higher than their own mind… and no value higher than their own judgment.”

Choe’s eyes crinkled when he gave her an affectionate smile and remained with the same expression for a long time, without saying a single word. Then he arched an eyebrow and finally looked at her out of the corner of his eye, “You’re just like the people from the past. You follow your instincts... you have hunches…”

“I do not judge people according to numbers as the Sibyl System does. I judge and measure others by my own standards. And I accept that I cannot change a person’s values for them. They must choose their own measurement by themselves and for themselves.”

“And what conclusions do you draw about me, miss?”

Her face contorted with a fleeting scowling glance.

“You care too much about public opinion. You crave for my approval,” she sighed while turning to him, her voice loud at first. “You see the world as a popularity contest you think you are losing. You measure yourself and people through social status because they have always treated you as a latent criminal, without recognizing your brilliance.

“You hate that they do not value your talent, and you envy people who have perfect hues but hesitate to find a job or a career, because you were not even given a choice. And that is why you are so conflicted about me… you need me, just like Makishima.”

He stood still with his eyes barely open. He used to give the impression that he was not paying attention to others, yet he did care about what she said. His lips were tight and his face was perfectly calm, like that of an imposing photograph of a captain in his moment of glory.

“Imagine a world without the Sibyl System,” he slowly whispered as his eyes glared in awe. “If we destroy it… we’ll have freedom outside, too. I’m always in hiding while you live on the surface. Come down for a moment miss, look up and tell me. How would you feel… if you saw those who took everything from you… and treated you like scum all your life… losing themselves to tear this city apart? Wouldn’t it be fun to watch them kill each other?”

Yashiro’s chest filled with air as the deep sound of his voice resounded in her mind. Her eyes closed completely for a moment, and she released an audible sigh that caught his attention.

“I would feel… at ease. To be feared and despised as if you were an animal… then watch them become what they tried so hard to suppress—themselves. I would seek comfort in the fact that after so much suffering, people at last would find a light amidst darkness… one that would not come from another Sibyl System.”

“I knew you would understand. Shougo was right about you.”

“It does not mean I would impose my own view of happiness. Is that a way of justifying yourself to me?”

“I wasn’t trying to” —he widened his eyes, then looked back at her—"yes.”

“Why?”

It took him several seconds to finally find words, “You understand me in a way no one else has before.”

The silence between the two of them became deeper. But no more words were needed. When they arrived at the residence and Choe closed the door behind her, both went into the large living room where a long white couch was in the middle. The fireplace at the end of the room was lit and matched the red carpet on the floor. Yashiro left her black backpack on a small table behind the couch, and Choe Gu-sung’s voice echoed softly and clearly in the room as he walked to the kitchen, “Shougo’s upstairs in his study.”

Yashiro walked up the stairs slowly and her footsteps barely echoed down the corridor. When she reached the first room, she noticed that the door was half open and decided to enter without making a sound. She was surrounded by two large bookshelves that were against the wall, and at the end of the room a desk with a lighted lamp and a closed hardcover book next to it. Everything was made of wood and was perfectly maintained and clean; a rare style that a person could only enjoy by means of holograms, since that kind of furniture was difficult to find. Without hardly being aware she was already walking gracefully along the bookshelves, gazing at the books from a distance.

“Courtesy of an old friend,” the mocking and measured voice rumbled throughout the room.

Yashiro stifled a chuckle with a slight smirk and turned around, finding the amber-colored eyes staring at her from the other bookshelf.

“You have no friends,” she blurted out shaking her head.

Makishima gave her back a weak yet peaceful smile, letting silence come between the two of them as she turned to the books once again and leaned forward to study one in particular. He took a few steps toward her with his hands in the pockets of his beige pants, looking for what had caught her attention, but stopped behind her back as he managed to recognize the name of the author—Arthur Schopenhauer.

His gaze suddenly settled on her right shoulder as a smell of lavender flooded his nostrils, and when he noticed that Yashiro was immersed in a page of the book, he bent cautiously bringing his nose to her black coat. Suddenly, he opened his eyes when he was invaded by cigarette smell instead. Yashiro frowned and raised her head a few centimeters, bringing him to his senses. Makishima tilted his head to the side as she put the book back in the same place, her body did not seem to be bothered by the unexpected closeness.

“A smoking boyfriend, perhaps?” Makishima tried to guess with a certain loud tone, his piercing eyes slightly scowling at her.

Yashiro sighed and shook her head, walking past him to the desk and leaning against the wooden surface. The amber eyes sparkled as he crossed his arms over his white shirt to observe her, his gaze growing skeptical and almost accusing. Yashiro parted her lips but words did not come out. The other in response arched an eyebrow tauntingly inviting her to continue, yet she closed her eyes for a few seconds imagining his reaction, “Three agents came to my apartment and one of them was smoking like a chimney.”

“What were these agents looking for?”

“They wanted to know about Toma,” she looked down with sudden concern. “But I did not tell them anything.”

“You did the right thing. May I ask what this concern is about?”

Yashiro shook her head for a moment, until she finally looked at him again, “They know he is not the only culprit behind the murders. They are searching for the one who could have made the resin and the one who provided the materials.”

“Unfortunately for them… they’ll have to keep searching,” he uttered, as his mouth curved into a faint smile for a second.

“You look confident. Aren’t you worried that you might be linked?”

Makishima stepped toward her with a gentle guttural laugh, “The only living proof they have resides in a girl who can’t even speak. And they haven’t placed cameras in the academy, so everything that happens inside stays inside.”

For the moment; Yashiro was sure they would install cameras throughout the academy building in the future, if they had not already done so.

“You did not see the faces of these guys. I think they know something,” Yashiro insisted narrowing her eyes. “They looked at me as if I were playing devil’s advocate.”

Makishima leaned against the desk next to her with his legs slightly apart, his hands on the wooden surface and his gaze fixed on hers, “I trust you will not allow them to go any further.”

She closed her eyes, unable to exchange another look with him at that moment.

“You cannot hide forever, Makishima. They will hunt you down someday.”

He arched an eyebrow putting his hands together, and turned to the bookshelf in front of them, “Shouldn’t you be worried about your former partner? I don’t need to remind you what could happen to her.”

Yashiro’s eyes opened staring at the floor, her body was strangely tilted forward as if the world were resting on her back. Makishima gently widened his eyes to her, recognition dawned on his face.

“You can sow with care but what grows next is the fruit of its own nature,” he stated, looking at the part of her neck that was not hidden by her hair.

“I am afraid that the apple will fall too far from the tree,” she replied in a mumble.

Makishima curled his lip showing part of his teeth, and suddenly stood up taking some steps forward. His fingers played an invisible piano next to his body, but then he turned around with his right heel slightly in the air, and his narrowed eyes stuck in hers.

“Why can’t you just get rid of her? She didn’t ask you to help her. She doesn't even know that she's alive because of you,” his voice shattered the quiet before it, rumbling and trembling throughout the room. 

Yashiro blinked as words struck her, she was unable to make a single move, for she could not actually believe his odd reaction and remained still as she asked, “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Why do you care so deeply about her? You can't even look at her since she helped Toma commit his murders, can you? Have you met each other again?"

"I expect no answer from her—I don't even care about her indifference. Nothing else matters to me—only the fact that she has no replacement, for she has a place in my heart."

Makishima instantly curled his lip raising his head a few centimeters, and one of his eyes squinted as if someone had stabbed him in the back for a second.

“You always protect those you care about first, even if your life is in danger.”

“This isn’t about Rikako,” she cut him short with a scowl and shook her head. “You… it’s about you. You didn’t expect me to save you from Sasayama that night—"

"I expected you to kill him and then kill me, for dragging Rikako into Toma's game. You did neither, for you needed me to find answers—"

“I didn’t just risk my life because I needed you,” Yashiro blurted out with a voice between a whisper and a shout. “But because I care about you.”

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Yashiro blinked with her mouth half open, unable to believe what her ears had heard—both her own words and his response. Standing up in front of him, she saw the way his jaw tightened as he looked down at her. The only thing that separated them was a space of a few centimeters.

“You cannot accept help from anyone,” she softly stated looking through his eyes and making a long pause. “Has someone ever helped you? Are you like this... because you feel you don’t deserve it? Is that why you can’t trust anyone… you can’t let your guard down?

“I don’t expect any answer from you either. You’re careful not to be vulnerable for a second in front of anyone else.”

Yashiro moved away from his closeness, going back to look at the books. It became harder for her to find her breath, as if by stabbing him with those words, she had just hurt herself in the process.

“Thank you,” a deep, spontaneous voice stopped her. 

She slowly turned around with her hands on her back, a smile came to her lips and her heart quickened with sincere joy. 

“You’re welcome,” it was the first time she enjoyed uttering such simple words. 

There was a long silence that both took advantage of to analyze each other, but it was Yashiro who decided to change the subject, “There is something else. When the detectives came, they mentioned that Toma is missing.”

“And?” His voice was almost a whisper.

Yashiro walked around the study, pointing with one hand as if inspired.

“I know Toma. He is too stubborn. Impulsive. Careless. Once he starts something he does not stop until he finishes it.”

“Perhaps he got bored and decided to run away, knowing that he has nothing left.”

“That is not the Toma I knew,” she slowly shook her head. “He would never run away—it is not his style. And even less knowing what we did to Toko."

“She was a simple toy for him.”

“He loved her. Based on his own concept of love, of course.”

"And based on yours?"

"He... was obsessed with her."

He sat in an old wooden Victorian armchair next to the desk. Leaning against the dark red upholstered back, he looked up slowly, almost as if asking permission to exchange a glance with her, then crossed one leg over the other and placed an elbow on the armrest. Suddenly he asked, “Is there a difference between love and obsession?”

Yashiro’s brows drew together as she turned to him. He then lightly rested his left hand on his cheek without using it as a head support, entirely focused on her and waiting for an answer that took her several seconds to find.

“If you loved someone… you would not hold them back from where they might belong.”

There was an expression of genuine peace on his face that lingered for a while as he melted into her eyes.

“ _There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness_.”

Yashiro was standing there, a smile slowly covering her lips as well as his own. Then Makishima got serious as he questioned, “You think he might be dead?”

“I think they made him disappear.”

His eyes suddenly flickered with interest, “They?”

“For the Sibyl System, there are no mistakes. There cannot be. But there are always people who betray reason. And if someone were to threaten the credibility of that perfection… people must continue to believe that it functions perfectly. At least that is what I would do.

“As Sasayama said—individuals like him would make people doubt this society’s order, causing others to be affected by it.”

“Is there a sector of society that benefits from the existence of the Sibyl System?”

“How ironic,” she smirked at him. “I asked the same question.”

“The government doesn’t,” he argued with a thoughtful look. “First thing a totalitarian government does is to disarm population, to deprive them of the right to legitime defense. So far so good for them, but they have no control over the monopoly on violence. The Sibyl System is an independent entity that surpasses them all, which is why politicians like Mr. Hashida have to falsify their crime coefficients.”

“Since the creation of the Sibyl System there is no such thing as the rule of law,” Yashiro added gesturing with her hands. “Basically because there is no equality before the law. People like us or Toma cannot be judged. That is what a politician would most want to obtain impunity, but if I were one of them... I would prefer to go to another country where it is easier to be corrupt.”

He slightly shook his head as the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Don’t you feel that in this country the government is like a mask?”

“It represents this country keeping curious looks away; Japan became protectionist long ago and we seek to live by ourselves. The problem is... that an autarky is not sustainable in the long term. Someday... everything is going to fall apart.”

“More precisely—it’s not attainable in real life, like closed systems in physics. Every order requires more or less from its environment and it’s difficult to isolate oneself from it completely.

“Without competition, companies within the industry don’t need to innovate. Eventually, the domestic product will decline in quality and be more expensive than what foreign competitors produce. I’m dying to know then, Yashiro. What do you think would happen if there was some kind of problem in Hyper-oats?”

Yashiro lifted an eyebrow as she scrutinized the way his eyes burned with genuine interest. He had wanted to corner her from the very beginning, to let her know what he was capable of. And still, Yashiro felt that he deemed it necessary to share the sense of that power with her.

“We would have to... loosen our isolation policies to allow for import of food. There would be food shortages as well. And… it could cause nationwide stress and increased hue cloudiness. Which would ultimately lead to…”

“The breakdown of the Sibyl System.”

He had said it with such naturalness and ease that it took Yashiro several seconds to feel the real weight of the words—the truth hidden in them. Her face hardened and her eyes narrowed as if they had lost the strength to stay fully open.

“Is that your way of... _opening yourself to the gentle indifference of the world?”_

His mouth slowly curved into a smile.

“Would you be there the day of my execution, Yashiro… among the large crowd of spectators, greeting me with cries of hate?”


	7. 6

In the large room which had a dark brown carpet on the wooden floor, continuous blows resounded. For a moment they stopped, replaced by brief gasps from both pencak silat practitioners.

“You’re not familiar with knives,” observed Makishima.

Yashiro was a few steps away from him and his straight razor. She had put on black sweatpants and a gray blouse that was a bit too big for her, and it hung down past her waist.

“They are very much like you.”

He curved his lips and rolled up the sleeves of his white t-shirt, “Is that so?”

Yashiro inhaled deeply as she wiped some sweat from her forehead with her hand. Makishima was slowly pacing around without taking his gaze from hers. The two hands stood firm to block all kinds of strikes.

“Humanity has always sought simpler ways to kill. In the past, you had to train to learn how to use bows or swords. Later, with the advent of firearms, that physical effort and exhaustion was greatly reduced. Anyone could shoot, even a small child. And now… we managed to develop one that does not even require the will of its wearer. It is so easy to kill when you are not responsible for your own actions, isn’t it?” She slowly shook her head and squinted. “You instead…”

He stepped forward with his left foot, while both hands thrust outward inviting her to attack further. Yashiro used hand strikes, but he smirked and counterattacked turning his body. His left hand caught hers, and she prevented him from bringing his knife closer by grabbing his forearm. They stared at each other for a moment, trembling and breathing sharply in equal measure.

“Guns are quick. They don’t make you feel the emotion… they don’t make you… responsible in the same way. And in their final moments, people show you their true nature. But that’s something you have already proven in the flesh… haven’t you, Yashiro?”

She managed to let go of his grip and attacked him with feet strikes, which he immediately recognized and used his right hand to catch her foot, pushing with the left one her shoulder and sweeping her with his own foot. She fell like a simple doll and grimaced for a second, turning her body to the side like a worm on the ground. Makishima released a fleeting smile and as he slowly stood up, folded the blade of his straight razor into its handle and tucked it into the pocket of his white pants.

When he reached out to her, it took her several seconds to grasp his forearm. Yashiro noticed that his skin was soft and warm, but his grip was firm, not entirely enduring—he released her as soon as she stood in front of him, as if he could not allow himself to touch her. She could not help but lift an eyebrow. It was not shyness, for Makishima was the last person who would feel shame, but she still would not quite figure out what it was.

And then it hit her—it was the same for her. While at the academy she saw herself capable of hugging everyone, something as simple as tapping him on the shoulder to call him over did not usually cross her mind. But neither of them felt like a stranger in the presence of the other. Yashiro guessed then, that if anything her attitude was more relaxed, it was due to the fact that she did not have to pretend anything in front of him. Moreover, it was very likely he would be disappointed if she dared to treat him with the same warmth with which she treated people. He would recognize that mask, for he also carried one with him.

Yashiro was learning fast, and even Choe himself had mentioned that she was very quick. He enjoyed watching them fight, studying both of their progress. And while they practiced, his expectant figure had been all that time in a corner leaning against the wall. Choe threw a water bottle at her, but she had turned in his direction and managed to catch it, otherwise it would have hit her in the face. Then she opened it and drank quickly; her throat was dry because she had not taken a drink in hours. Choe somehow managed to recognize those little details lately, though Yashiro was not entirely sure how he did it.

“You’re pretty impulsive,” Choe Gu-sung barely opened his eyes. “But you do it well.”

Yashiro stopped for a moment without blinking, feeling the echo of his words in her head. In a way, Choe Gu-sung praising her filled her lungs with air and made her smile. Anyone could have told her the same thing, yet his opinion was different. He was not a man who would lie to make others feel good, which was why she appreciated his few and unusual comments so much. She was about to thank him when he continued moving closer to her, “There’s something I want to give you.”

Makishima had also moved to where they were. Choe reached into his blue jacket pocket and pulled out a small curved knife that resembled a claw. Yashiro squinted and tilted her head as she took it carefully, noting the shape that could be simply hidden in the palm of her hand.

“Are you going to teach her karambit techniques, Choe?” Makishima smirked at him.

“Let’s leave it for another day. It’s dinner time. You’re staying, miss? That is, of course, if you have nothing important to do.”

Yashiro swiftly looked up at him, unable to respond at once. Makishima cast a glance at his partner, as his eyebrows became drawn together. He was not expecting such an invitation.

“I do not want to be a bother,” she replied with a certain hesitation in her voice.

“You’re not.”

Choe had spoken with such assurance as if it were not really in his plans to give her another alternative.

“Then well… I would be really delighted.”

Yashiro decided to take a shower first, and she was soon left alone with full privacy, yet she was quick for it was not her own apartment. When she started down the stairs, she stopped in the middle as soon as she overheard their voices. Something told her she did not have to show up at that moment.

“Can you do me a favor, Choe?”

She then went on slowly without making a sound, peering into the large living room where Makishima was standing by the wide window looking outside, with a book in his right hand as a support for his chin. Choe was sitting on the couch instead, and they were so engrossed in conversation that they did not seem to notice she was there.

“Sure. What is it about?”

She went back to studying the confident way Choe was sitting, with his long slender legs stretched out and his arms resting on the armrest.

“I need you to keep an eye on her.”

Yashiro lifted an eyebrow at those sudden words, and curled her lip for a fleeting moment. Choe turned to him with his head tilted to the side, slowly opening his eyes.

“I… thought you trusted her. She has proven how committed she is just as we are,” Choe’s voice was a whisper at first, then rose considerably.

“I know.”

“Then why… are you asking me that? So you can eliminate her before she thinks of betraying you, as you have done before with those who tried?”

Yashiro narrowed her eyes as she watched them behind the wall.

“So I can catch whoever comes from the bureau in order to further investigate the MWPSB. According to what she told me; she’s raising suspicious. They’re going after her, Choe. It’s just a matter of when,” Makishima stated lowering the hand with which he held the book, and looked at his partner.

His voice was low, but so raspy and hoarse that Yashiro held her breath for a moment.

“That’s not going to happen. You said there was nothing they could use to link her to you or the murders.”

“But I didn’t say… that they could connect her with the very man who committed those grotesque crimes.”

Yashiro looked down for a couple of seconds. She pondered the possibility of the bureau finally discovering her relationship with Toma. Then she tried thinking like Kougami, who did not seem to be such a stickler for the rules as Ginoza. Their encounter had given her a sense of danger, and she felt it once again like cold water all over her skin. She would ask former students if they knew anything about him, but none of them really knew him. And then it dawned on her there was a possibility that one of them might have mentioned her name, for she used to get attention when she talked to him in her free time.

“All it’s up to her psycho pass then. And I’ve seen it’s as white as yours.”

“Who says white is beauty after all?” Makishima closed his eyes. “If they get close…”

“I’ll let you know. You have my word.”

Yashiro took a deep breath and finally walked down the stairs, her shoes barely making a sound on the floor, until she stopped a few meters away from them. Makishima calmly met his gaze with hers, his face transformed into that of someone waiting for death with open arms; his eyes widened for a second as he lifted his head, and a genuine smile covered his lips at the unexpected presence.

“I was beginning to believe we were done with alternate agendas," Yashiro blurted out. “But it seems I was wrong. Using me to lure the people you are interested in playing with.”

“It’s not very polite of you to cheat at cards,” Makishima gently raised his voice.

Yashiro folded her arms and arched an eyebrow. Choe was still in the same place watching the scene in front of him without getting involved. He was not looking at her but at his partner, as if silently disapproving of something.

“I could not help but take a look at yours. You know I never can—especially if you have a trump card up your sleeve that you might use against me… or someone I care about.”

“You know we have a symbiotic relationship. We help each other. But when it comes to our personal relationship—there are no alternate agendas Yashiro.”

She shook her head lifting her shoulders, “How can you say that when you keep things from me?”

His eyes widened for a second at her words.

“Everyone has secrets. I thought you'd come to terms with that.”

“I have. Which is why what really upsets me, is not the fact that you are not honest with me… but the fact that you still cannot trust me enough to let me help you.”

He shrugged his shoulders and raised his chin, “Choe still doesn’t trust me enough and keeps things from me.”

“That is different.”

Makishima let out a rich, throaty laugh as he approached her, with the book at chest level and one hand in his pants pocket.

“Is it? What does honesty mean to you then? One can keep some things secret and be in an honest relationship at the same time? You want to know all of my secrets, Yashiro?”

There was a dangerous, taunting silence in the room and Choe settled back into the couch. Yashiro took a few seconds before answering the question, “Yes, I do.”

“I’ll tell you then,” he tilted his head to the side with a smirk of triumph. “As soon as you tell me.”

By then he was already right in front of her, yet Yashiro remained the same as if she had not even noticed that closeness. Her face was implacable, but her eyes suddenly glistened.

“Tell you what?”

“The secrets you keep from me.”

“I never said I kept any,” she shot him a scowling glance.

“Come on, Yashiro. This can be fun… if the secrets you keep are as loving as the ones Choe keeps.”

Yashiro glanced at Choe as if asking for help and then back at him. Suddenly she let out a faint smile that lingered for a while, as she began to turn her whole body to the side.

“Now that’s interesting,” he chuckled at the effusive astonishment on her face.

Makishima slowly passed by her and went upstairs to take a shower as she had done, until he was completely out of sight. Yashiro allowed herself to breathe deeply, but she had forgotten that she was not alone and turned to the remaining man in that living room.

“You are his secret keeper, aren’t you?”

Choe Gu-sung only released a smile at her, “Do you like fish, miss?”

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Finally, she nodded in response.

“Good. Shall we?”

He got up from the couch and they both headed for the kitchen. Yashiro lifted an eyebrow as she heard a knife against wood. She had never imagined that someone like him would like to cook but there he was, throwing her a glance every now and then as he sliced a tomato. Yashiro sat down in a chair, then rested both hands on the wooden table and stretched backwards. At one point he went to open the fridge, and stood still for a few seconds before pulling out a glass bottle.

“We have white wine,” he declared, then turned to her.

She looked at the bottle raised in the air, “It appears you do not even know what you have in your kitchen.”

“We still have to thank a friend of us for all these good ingredients. Shougo told you about him?”

Yashiro was about to smile, but only shrugged her shoulders.

“Your sponsor? What a supportive man,” she responded with complete ease.

Choe brought two glasses in which he poured some wine, then handed one to her and sat in the adjacent chair crossing one arm on the armrest, like two friends meeting in a bar.

“And if he keeps on with the idea of living forever, we’ll have more quality food and wine.”

Yashiro squinted her eyes trying to guess who he was referring to. There were many men who longed to live a long life, but most of them had things in common like money, age, and reputation.

“What a fun man,” Yashiro smiled imagining what Makishima would think of him. “Let me guess… Makishima still wants to figure out if there is greatness on him.”

Choe nodded with a strangely somber look on his face. He realized that Yashiro did not really know who they were talking about, but it did not seem to bother him at all—only amuse him. And he did not tell her his name in the end, though she was willing to find it out someday.

“What a surprise you do not have a food printer, given you are so into technology,” she commented looking around.

“The printer can’t make the food from my motherland. And it’s not the same taste. Isn’t it better like the old days?”

She brought her gaze back to him and smiled, “Synthetic food is tasteless.”

“You know how to cook, miss?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

Yashiro gave a thin grin. Her father had never prepared food for her. Nor had he ever taken it upon himself to buy her something to eat, so she had to do it herself. The fridge was mostly full of alcohol and since her mother was often sick, everything was left to Yashiro. Choe remained silent for a few moments, but fidgeted his hand on the backrest as if to forget the matter.

“Someday… I want to see the before and after,” she stated looking straight ahead.

A sudden frown contorted his face.

“Before and after what?”

“Everything changed.”

“Not a single glimpse.”

Yashiro took a sip of the drink and pointed the glass at him for a few seconds, “I am sure you were handsome.”

A chuckle went up in his throat until he could no longer contain it, and he slowly shook his head.

“Was I? Can’t remember anymore to be honest.”

“I know you were kind… and decent. Just like Makishima.”

“What do you know?”

“There was a turning point in your lives that made you who you are today. People may say you are bad because of the terrible things you have done. But I hope you can find some solace in the fact that for me…”

She could not finish the sentence; she just kept nodding her head in an imperceptible way, as if she were actually talking to herself.

“Would you mind if I expressed my respect?” Choe brought her back to reality with the same booming, deep voice.

Yashiro turned to him carefully as her eyes widened, “Uh?”

“I’ve never heard him speak of any woman as he speaks of you. Now I see why."

Yashiro’s chest filled with air and slowly looked away again, “He needs me.”

“He cares about you."

She swallowed what little was left in her glass sonorously, and put it down on the table. She was silent for quite some time and rested one arm on its surface, staring into nothingness.

“He does not know how to care about anyone else—because no one ever cared about him. He may be able to kill people without feeling any remorse… because he did not have an affectional bond with them.

“I think even… he does not know how to have an affectional bond with someone. He has many admirers, but only because of the mask he always wears. If he were to show that face, they would fear it as much as he does. He is intelligent, attractive, and kind—three things any person loves, yet no one has ever loved him or accepted him as the man he really is under that suit.

“No one never came to feel affection for him, or at least tried to comprehend him. He did not give up his self in order to be accepted by others, and that eventually made his walls even higher for people to climb over them. So he kept thinking that he is different from the others, and for that reason he did not have any attention throughout his life.

“I dare say not a single person has even hated him, giving him in that way the much-desired attention he always cried out for. He is… so damaged.”

Yashiro’s voice broke into a whisper at the end, and she blinked a couple of times wiping away the gleam that covered her eyes. Then she turned to him, realizing how much she had been able to say with someone she had met only a few days ago. Choe was still focused on her, unable to utter a single word. His body was as still as stone, but his face was as warm as the sun—something strange and unexpected that made her raise an eyebrow. At that moment she came to hear that Makishima had finished showering, and they did not cross any words on the matter again, though his gaze was more than understanding.

When Makishima returned, he had put on light blue pants and a simple green shirt. His face was slightly marked with an ordinary human tiredness she had never seen before. Choe and Yashiro were already waiting for him at the table, and he joined them after a long pause at the entrance to the kitchen. Despite the silence, little did they know what she would give for that dinner to last for hours. Nothing else mattered to her but that moment—what other people might call home, but what she used to call shelter.

When the door slid open, Shion Karanomori turned around with a smile taking the cigarette out of her mouth.

“What brings you here so early in the morning, Kougami?”

He was looking at the screen but not at her, and walked forward with his hands in his black pants pockets.

“I need your help to find information about someone.”

The analyst swiveled her chair around to turn back to the screens, and placed her hands on the holographic keyboard.

“Who are you looking for, sweetheart?”

“You may remember her from a couple of years before. Her name is Yashiro Takahashi.”

Karanomori nodded her head a couple of times as her fingers began to dance on the desk as they were always accustomed to.

“Ah… yeah. Sasayama talked about her all day. To be honest, I was sick of it.”

“Maybe she reminded him of his little sister, just like Toko Kirino,” sighed Kougami. “The difference is that he was able to save Yashiro in the end.”

Karanomori looked up for a moment as Yashiro’s face popped up on the screen.

“I remember now. Her mother killed her husband and tried to kill her own daughter too, didn’t she?”

Kougami could not help but light up a cigarette and looked at it for a while.

“I don’t think she tried to kill her daughter. She wasn’t a criminal like her husband. She was trying to protect her from us, only she didn’t know she needed to protect herself.”

“We’ll never know. What matters now is that the girl is just fine thanks to you and Sasayama.”

There was a deep silence.

“What else you got?” Kougami lifted his chin in the direction of Yashiro’s profile.

“All of her neighbors had to undergo therapy. But the only one whose psycho pass remained stable was hers. The maximum value she reached was, uh, 92… according to Sasayama’s dominator. Kougami, are you here because Ginoza sent you or for personal reasons?”

Kougami moved closer with his eyes fixed on the information, and rested a hand on the back of her seat, “When did she reach that value?”

“Let me check… when her mother died,” Shion stretched back, and her eyes widened. “This girl is human?”

“What about her family?”

She again typed something on the keyboard.

“Looks like her uncles sent her to the Ousou Academy but didn’t raise her. Her aunt was her mother’s sister. That’s the weird thing.”

“What is it?”

“The fact that she should worry about her niece. At least for her sister. After everything she’s been through...”

Kougami shook his head almost immediately and let out a puff of smoke.

“They left her in that academy on purpose so as not to be with her. Think about it. Your sister dies protecting her own daughter and this little brat survives. Not only her neighbors, but the rest of her family, must have seen her as anything but human.”

As Kougami removed his hand from the back of the seat to put it inside his pants pocket, she frowned and exchanged a glance with him.

“That’s just… cruel. She was like… what, twelve?”

“Fifteen years old.”

Kougami had pronounced each word with such precision and care, that Karanomori was silent for a while.

“What’s so special about her?” She propped an elbow on the desk and stretched her long fingers in the air. “Didn’t you rule out the possibility of her knowing anything about this Toma guy?”

“We didn’t. We’re just… getting acquainted.”

“I don’t understand. Why don’t you just go after her?”

“Shion,” he uttered clearly with a smile. “Despite everything she's experienced, this girl maintains a healthy psycho pass and is quick to recover from any traumatic event, such as the recent brain damage of Toko Kirino and the death of her parents right in front of her eyes. Many people might believe she's cold-hearted and unfeeling, but I think she has a strong ego.

“There’s no way we can just knock on her door and ask her to tell us the truth. She’s smart. She’ll lie again. We got to find evidence first, and corner her into confessing.”

“Confess!” She pointed at him with her cigarette. “So you think she’s guilty of something, huh?”

“If you were her, why would you lie to the MWPSB then?”

“Because they took everything from me,” she blurted out shrugging her shoulders.

Kougami frowned and looked up the screen, “Or because you have something to hide.”

“Absolute nonsense. You can’t be part of those murders and have that beauty of a hue afterwards.”

A man wearing a dark suit with a red striped tie and brown shoes, took a step forward and squinted his eyes at him.

“Unless you had no idea what you were getting into. The responsibility is distributed and no one knows everything. That way, no hue gets clouded. You think that’s possible, Ko?”

Sasayama’s voice echoed in the room, but went unnoticed by Karanomori.

“Someone would have to know everything about the murder. How come it didn’t affect her hue? Unless… she wasn’t directly involved,” added Kougami aloud, looking back down to the desk.

For the first time in a month, Sasayama smirked and then released a chuckle, pointing at him with a cigarette between his fingers.

“Last time Sasayama contacted me… can you check where he was going? The closest point to his location. He said he was going to rescue Toko Kirino. Toma must have kidnapped her somewhere.”

The map began to enlarge on the screen in front of them, with lines forming a square.

“Just a second…it seems he ended up in this apartment. We lost track of him after that, a few miles from that place. Maybe that’s where this Toma guy took him. I’ll send you the address.”

“Thank you,” he responded with unusual softness and a barely imperceptible smile.

“Anytime. Hope you find the answers you’re looking for, Kougami. You deserve them.”

He left his cigarette in the ashtray.

“You know? Last thing Sasayama told me… was that this case taught him that law can’t always protect people. I wonder what he meant. I wish he would be here to ask him himself. But I guess I have to find the answer on my own.”

Suddenly the door opened behind them with a soft metallic sound, and the figure of Inspector Ginoza stood in the same place for a few seconds, his eyes scanning both of them, until he decided to step into the office with an arched eyebrow, “Going somewhere?”

His voice echoed sonorously across the room with a certain grandiloquent intonation, yet Kougami turned to him with his hands in his pants pockets. Masaoka came in after him, and when he noticed Kougami he closed his eyes for a few seconds raising his eyebrows.

“I was waiting for you so I could apply for permission to go out.”

The inspector let out a long, deep sigh, until he finally turned around followed by both enforcers. As they took the elevator down to the parking lot, Kougami pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket to light one, and Ginoza tilted his head toward him, “You are still beating around the bush about Miss Takahashi, aren’t you?”

“To his defense, I admit that I do too,” remarked Masaoka, holding his hand to the back of his neck and staring at the ceiling of the elevator. “There’s something fishy going on and we’re not yet able to see it.”

“She’s hiding something,” Kougami squinted his eyes. “Her former classmate said she was very close to Toma, but she told us what anyone else would say about him.”

“Yes, I noticed that too. But why on Earth would she hide anything from us?” Ginoza rolled his eyes, his voice was spontaneous and fleeting.

Kougami raised his head and breathed out, “Maybe she saw something she wasn’t supposed to see at the right time.”

“Miss Kirino was her friend and ended up getting involved—she would want to find the perp as well.”

The elevator door slid open and they headed for the nearest police car.

“Yashiro was with Toko at the zoo, right?” Kougami suddenly asked, more to himself.

Inspector Ginoza exchanged a glance with him, “I found that strange too, now that you mention it.”

“Then they went back to the academy, and that’s when Toko and Toma disappeared.”

Ginoza extended a hand on the steering wheel of the car, while the main screen turned on and synchronized with the address that Shion had sent Kougami, “I do not see what you are getting at.”

“I told Sasayama that he was off the case, and Yashiro was there listening to us, too. I wonder how he knew where to find this Toma by the way.”

“You believe she told him something, Ko?” Masaoka asked.

“She’s the only one who knew him. She probably knew of some place he frequented. But that was enough information for Sasayama. Question now is who was she helping—Toko, or Toma?”

Ginoza looked at him, “We do not have any proof.”

“I know. Still working on that part.”

The apartment where Sasayama had been was pitch-black, it was clear that it had somehow caught fire. Kougami approached one of the windows that were broken, touching the fallen pieces of glass with his fingertips. When Ginoza turned back to him, he discovered that he had entered the apartment through that same window, but he did so through the door instead—or what used to be one—followed by Masaoka.

“What were you doing in a place like this?” Kougami muttered, clenching his teeth. “Why did you think of going on your own?”

There was a stair and he saw a bullet hole in the edge of the wall, which he touched with his index finger, then slowly looked up. It was hardly visible, but there was another one in the ceiling. 

“Two shots missed. Poor training, or too much nervousness considering the short distance.”

“Or both,” Masaoka’s voice brought him back. “No guns were seized in Kozaburo Toma’s apartment."

"Because he didn't like guns. He preferred to use his bare hands when killing people."

"So why did he have one? Out of desperation?"

"He probably knew he was coming to an end and wanted to finish Sasayama off once and for all. He wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe that’s why he brought the girl to this random apartment in the first place," Kougami threw his cigarette on the floor and crushed it with the sole of his shoe.

“He didn’t know where else to go.”

Kougami looked down for a moment, and went up the stairs as if he were being chased. Then he walked slowly to the first door in the corridor, which led to a room. Everything was destroyed, yet he supposed that all it had had was a bed and a closet. There was only a bathroom at the end of the corridor. Everything had turned to ashes, both on the first and second floors. It looked like a war zone. Kougami had not noticed that his fists were clenched as he knelt down to look at the wreckage in the living room.

“It’s no use. There’s nothing here, Ko.”

Saying those words, Masaoka put a hand on his left shoulder for a few seconds, managing to bring him to his senses. And when Kougami got up to leave the apartment, it was then that a shape in one of the windows stopped him in his tracks.

“Hey!” Kougami exclaimed.

The figure trembled when discovered and blurred as it fled. Kougami reacted at once and jumped out of a window, chasing after the elusive little spectator. It was hooded but he could not lose sight of it, as it was wearing the red ribbon characteristic of Ousou Academy students.

Not knowing how long he was running, he finally went up some stairs until he saw the little guy enter an apartment. Ginoza and Masaoka had caught up to him with dominator in hand, but the former waited for both enforcers to come before him. Kougami kicked the door open, but no one was inside. However, he knew that whoever that person was had hidden. In the dining room there was a round table—it looked like they were getting ready for dinner. There was a pot on the kitchen stove, a pleasant smell was coming from it that he could not quite identify.

“We are from the Criminal Investigation Department,” Ginoza announced in a loud voice. “You have been to a crime scene, come out so we can ask you a few questions.”

“We—we didn’t do anything,” a woman’s voice faltered.

Kougami stepped forward, motioning with his hand for Ginoza to lower his dominator, “We’re looking for a man who worked with us and was killed—his name was Mitsuru Sasayama. We know he was in the apartment that is now burned down.”

They heard a noise like something falling, and suddenly the figure they had been chasing came down the stairs, timidly touching the wall with its hands. It could also speak, “Do you have a picture of him?”

When the hood came off, the men frowned as they discovered it was a girl. The woman who had spoken earlier also emerged from her hiding place, opening the bathroom door. She had a rather heavy pan in her hands which she instantly put down. Ginoza activated a hologram, showing the two women an image of Sasayama. The younger one opened her eyes and mouth and suddenly pointed at it, shooting a glance at her mother, “It’s him—the man who gave me this ribbon!”

The men looked at each other. The girl rushed over and sat in the dining room chair, staring at them.

“Actually I found it when I was passing by that apartment, but then the detectives found me and my mom and asked me to take them to where I found it,” explained the girl.

The mother approached her daughter and nodded her head, “It’s true. If my memory serves me well, they were looking for a missing girl. Have you found her?”

The silence became almost funereal in the room.

“What do you mean they?” Ginoza blurted out. “He went alone.”

The two women frowned and exchanged a look as if they were speaking another language, and paused for a long moment.

“He was with a woman,” continued the mother.

“Did she tell you her name?” Inspector Ginoza asked with a gasp.

“I am afraid not.”

She sited next to her daughter. Ginoza took a deep breath and closed his eyes, placing his glasses over his nose. However, Kougami did not give in, “What did she look like?”

The woman put a hand on the table while trying to remember, and took a few seconds to answer. Kougami knew from the moment he entered that apartment that those people were innocent, or at least not related to Sasayama at all. They really wanted to help them. Their look was pure. And he himself did not understand why he had sensed that—it was something Sasayama would have noticed from the beginning. Ginoza took some steps forward, bringing him back to reality.

“She was tall, friendly. Brown hair. I didn’t pay that much attention to be honest.”

“Anything seem off to you?” Masaoka shot a fleeting glance at Kougami.

The mother shrugged her shoulders and paused, but just then frowned, “She was well dressed, I bet she wasn’t from here.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ginoza heard his own echo, unable to stop the growing doubt within him. “A dress?”

“No, no—office style, professional.”

Suddenly Kougami sat in front of them activating his wristcom. Ginoza was about to ask something when he rushed to say, showing an image, “Did she look like her?”

Ginoza approached him to see who it was. His eyebrows rose when he discovered it was Yashiro Takahashi. The men held their breath until the mother’s voice was heard again, “I think so. What do you think, honey?”

“It’s her.”

Kougami deactivated the hologram and slowly turned to Ginoza. Masaoka came closer with visibly furrowed eyebrows.

“She wanted to find Miss Kirino as well, so she helped Sasayama. That makes her a witness,” Ginoza observed with a scowl.

“Or an accomplice,” Masaoka folded his arms, with his voice turning deeper and more dangerous than before.

“But if she was with him instead of at the academy, it means that she lied. Why?”

Kougami stood up and looked at Ginoza, “Let’s ask Yashiro herself.”


	8. 7

On a Friday afternoon, a few hours before her workday, Yashiro left the Faculty of Letters of the University of Tokyo with several classmates. She was always surrounded by students who were or were not in her own class, sometimes even some professors would chat with her for a while. It was not so much her defiant yet cautious gait, but her unquestionable convictions that most attracted their attention, for while the university was expected to encourage critical thinking, the truth was that there was little it could do if the majority preferred to renounce to it.

Between laughter and anecdotes about strange things that had happened to them in class, Yashiro narrowed her eyes when she saw a black car parked several meters from the entrance of the faculty. Three male faces got out of the car looking for something, until they stopped at her group and closed the car doors, heading toward them. Her classmates did not notice the prominent figures, but fell silent and frowned as soon as Yashiro walked past them. Only then did they turn to the sudden figures without moving from their places, reluctant to leave her alone in the presence of those strangers.

“Inspector Ginoza,” Yashiro instantly walked forward to greet the men, her black derby shoes echoing with natural grace. “I did not expect to see you back so soon. I must assume that you have found something.”

If Yashiro had wanted to shake their hand, it would have remained extended in the air, as the three men lined up in front of her like soldiers getting ready to shoot. On the right of the inspector was Kougami Shinya, while on the left was Tomomi Masaoka.

“Miss Takahashi, I am going to have to ask you to come with us.”

Yashiro stopped in her tracks and was silent for a while; both his deep, authoritative voice and his then narrowed green eyes, had prevented her from refusing to follow them, since his mere raven presence affirmed that she had no choice but to give herself to them.

“I understand,” she nodded her head.

As soon as she took a step forward, she heard a shoe resounding on the pavement.

“Wait,” someone grabbed her arm. “Who are these people, Yashiro?”

She glanced back. A young woman with dark brown hair neatly tied up, fixed her almost black eyes on hers. The grip was not strong, yet seconds passed and Yashiro was still like a teddy bear about to be torn apart from both sides.

“They are from the Public Safety Bureau. Don’t worry.”

Yashiro turned to the inspector again, but could not move. One of the young men who was also studying with her took a few steps toward the strangers, placing his hand on his hips and slightly raising his face. Yashiro pursed her lips as he grumbled, “Who are you? You can’t take whoever you want like this.”

The inspector arched an eyebrow at him as if hearing a sudden mosquito in the air, and Yashiro realized that some other students had started gathering around—all of them knew her.

“As your classmate said—we are from the Public Safety Bureau.”

“Then identify yourselves.”

Although Ginoza displayed his identification hologram, another group of students began to form around them as they passed by, and stayed to watch what was going on.

“All of you,” demanded another.

The enforcers ignored them, Kougami being the only one who reacted by showing his dominator extending it in the air. When her classmates finally checked that they were not ordinary people, contrary to what they would have imagined, they began to exchange glances and whisper among themselves.

“What do you want from her?” A young male voice dared to ask from behind.

Someone else grabbed her arm very gently and tried to pull her backwards away to no avail. Suddenly she felt a breath above her head, and she stood still for several seconds as a new voice whispered in her ears, “Got your back, miss.”

It took her a while to realize who was right behind her.

“You are a long way from your hole,” she softly stated with her eyes fixed on the men.

Yashiro could easily recognize the smirk on those female lips.

“Right,” another man stuttered taking some steps forward. “She hasn’t done nothing wrong.”

There were already many people in front of her then, including professors. Some started talking to the inspector about the danger of suddenly raising students’ stress, which was gradually becoming noticeable among them. Yashiro was pulled back even harder than before and turned around. There was a tall young woman with black short hair and brown eyes. Yashiro had seen her before though she did not remember her name—she only knew she was at least a year older than her.

“We got to go now,” she asserted without releasing her arm.

Yashiro shook her head, “I am not going anywhere until you tell me what this is all about.”

“There’s no time. It’s all set up.”

Yashiro came to see a familiar van rounding the corner. The same which had picked Mitsuru Sasayama some time ago. She frowned unable to move, and suddenly her words came out weak, barely audible, “Tell them to back off.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, miss.”

“That’s not for you to decide. Now step aside,” ordered the inspector.

Getting a step closer, Yashiro even recognized the face behind the wheel.

“You don’t have enough dominators to take us all down.”

“Let’s see,” Kougami muttered with a cigarette in his mouth.

All of a sudden, just as he was about to point his dominator at the young blonde woman, Yashiro broke free of the grasp and made her way toward them.

“Yashiro, what do you think—”

_Crime coefficient is 43. Not a target for enforcement action. The trigger will be locked._

Kougami arched an eyebrow but it took him a while to lower his gun again. By then both the inspector and the other man were pointing the dominator at no one, for they could not take their eyes off her. Not even Kougami—his were narrowed in a dangerous way.

“Yashiro, this makes no sense. You can’t go on with them,” complained the same blonde woman behind her.

Only then did the van parked on the other side of the street. Yashiro instantly recognized the barrel of a gun sticking out of the window. 

“Watch out!” She pointed at the van with her index finger.

Before she could do anything else, someone grabbed her from behind forcing her to duck for cover. At that very moment, hearing the clamor of multiple people exiting the van, a burst of gunfire riddled the surrounding space. The agents took cover, and among so many students scattering all over the place, she quickly lost sight of them.

She managed to see Kougami acquiring his target—a man in his thirties who was trying to hit Masaoka. Inspector Ginoza positioned himself at the corner of a vehicle instead, and aimed his dominator at a man she remembered almost immediately. It was the one who had taken Toko Kirino in his own arms—now he was nothing but the remains of flesh mashed on the floor.

Yashiro was grabbed tightly by the arm and this time she let herself be guided by the woman, lowering her head at the sound of gunshots. She saw the black short hair ahead of her, yet when they were about to turn right in the courtyard, she stopped in her tracks before they could be seen by the only camera in that area, and slightly tilted her head to point at it.

When the woman checked that they were alone, she took a compact out of her pocket and as she opened it, suddenly the overlay of that outfit started to fade away over the actual clothes, and the real face of the man appeared beneath. For a moment it left her speechless. Then she remembered why she always cried when the Public Safety Bureau mascots were near her as a child.

They were drones designed to relieve the tension of the populace by having a non-threatening, childlike appearance, and they gave agents a tactical advantage when used as a sophisticated holographic projection over themselves, when questioning people or approaching a criminal. She could never forget the day she first saw an enforcer turn off the projection in front of her. Her mother told her that she started to cry, and from then on avoided being near one of them. It was to this day, that Yashiro stayed away from all holograms.

“This is nuts! What do you think you’re doing Yashiro? These are Shougo’s men,” Choe Gu-sung raised his voice, restraining himself from shouting.

He was still holding her by the arm as if he thought she was going to slip away, though not as tightly as before. She raised her head looking into his eyes.

“I know. I’ve seen them before.”

His jaw tightened and he extended his free hand in her direction, pointing to her face with his index finger.

“You dug their own graves!”

Yashiro pursed her lips, then hit his forearm with her own to push him away, and yelled at him, “They did it by themselves!”

He stepped back to give her space, and silence fell upon them. They both looked at each other like two animals about to rip one another apart, but little by little their faces softened.

“Why you’re helping the police?” He demanded, crossing his arms.

His then calmer voice, sounded like that of an adult scolding a child.

“I will help you find answers Choe,” promised Yashiro. “But not like this. Now turn that creepy holo back on and let’s get out of here.”

He slightly opened his eyes at her, then turned on the hologram and soon the same outfit overlaid his black jacket and green jeans. He was an ordinary student again—even his voice sharpened. Yashiro led him to another area of the university not far away that had another exit, but she stopped and he arched an eyebrow turning back to her. Yashiro shook her head and mumbled, “He put you in danger by bringing you here.”

He lowered his gaze to meet hers again.

“He never places my life on the line intentionally.”

Yashiro was silent for several seconds. There was an honest truth in those simple words but she needed to confirm them herself, “You did.”

She looked deeply into his eyes for a couple of seconds. He might be fleeting and blunt when talking to people, but that was not how he interacted with her, and she could finally see it through his then different yet attentive, enduring eyes.

“You may live as a fugitive and a rat but here you are nonetheless—out of the shadows with death around the corner,” deduced Yashiro with frank admiration.

Suddenly his phone rang, but he did not even take a look at the screen, for his smile was entirely reserved for her.

“It’s Shougo,” he replied in a whisper. “He wants to make sure you’re safe.”

“Let me speak with him.”

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone, handing it to her with a brief pause in the process. When she put it to her ear, she received silence in response for a few seconds—he was a man accustomed to others giving him what he wanted, and she enjoyed being the exception every now and then.

“Your men were not that lucky today,” she uttered with a sneer.

He emitted a deep, fleeting breath with something close to boredom.

“Pity,” he finally answered.

Yashiro frowned unable to say a single word for a moment. She walked slowly imagining him wherever he was at that time, shaking his head in mock regret—which he was precisely doing in one of the classrooms of Ousou Academy, as he moved to the window to look outside, picturing her in his mind as well.

“You used them to make an attempt to kidnap someone from the bureau, but you do not show an ounce of concern for their failure?”

A long chuckle purred in her ear as he put his left hand on his beige pants pocket.

“You were my one and only concern. Have you come to realize that now… they have no reason to suspect you?”

Yashiro slowly looked around as if searching for something or feeling trapped.

“Are you saying that you let them all die… for a misguided notion of protecting me?”

"Now they are going to believe that these men targeted the last witness. They will eventually blame them and stop this meaningless search.”

“But then they will suspect someone was behind it all.”

He tilted his head to both sides, but did not respond. She remained speechless with her mouth half open for several seconds.

“You would be willing to put yourself at their mercy… so that they would not accuse me of crimes I have not committed…”

Her voice trailed off again, and his eyes squinted for a second at her then smooth tone, which eventually rose finding his ears, "But I am also guilty… Shougo."

She let silence come between them, yet she did not give him a chance to respond and cut the communication, handing the phone to Choe after a brief pause. Far away, in her past academy, he remained with his gaze lost in the sky, as if the conversation were repeating on a loop, and he found it hard to take his eyes off that blue. When he turned around, he remembered that he was not alone. Rikako Oryo had stopped drawing in order to look at him.

She never meddled in his affairs, but he would not have told her about Yashiro, even if she dared ask him who had been on the phone nonetheless—it was something he wanted to keep to himself. And then he realized that it was the first time Yashiro had ever uttered his name. A faint smile brightened his face as he walked out of the classroom.

“You’re going back,” Choe Gu-sung blurted out with a scowling glance.

Yashiro stopped short and sighed, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him, “This is what I wanted. Neither he nor you are going to take it away from me.”

“He would come out of the shadows if he found out.”

She shook her head, “We will not let that happen.”

“You’re asking me to lie to him?”

“I am asking you to be my secret-keeper as well.”

Yashiro could tell that he did not really want to let her go, but he would never force her to stay either. Finally, he bid farewell with a deep, confidence-inspiring nod of his head and each went on his way without looking back. On the other side of the faculty, a dozen broken bodies were scattered on the street and the sidewalk, and shards of glass from car windows covered the floor.

When Yashiro arrived at the place, she stood there for a while as if scanning the horizon without looking for anything at all. The three agents were also there, one of them communicating with another person while the other two were inspecting the men who had attacked them. There were no survivors.

Yashiro walked around as if she were working with them, and she did it so naturally that even they did not realize that she was actually at a crime scene. The drones that were often deployed as visual roadblocks restricting access had not yet arrived, though she would have ignored them one way or another to get a better view. Kougami was the first one who noticed her, and looked her in the eye throwing his cigarette on the floor, “You slipped away.”

Yashiro suddenly stopped by a young woman who was also a student as her. She was from her class and had prevented her from going with the men. She was probably shot to death during the confrontation by accident—there was a bullet hole in her abdomen, and her body was lying on the floor face up covered with blood. Yashiro knelt down close to her. Masaoka’s voice was a whisper as he approached her, “You shouldn’t be here, miss. Your hue is going to get clouded.”

Kougami slowly aimed his dominator at her again.

_Crime coefficient is 40. Not a target for enforcement action. The trigger will be locked._

Yashiro was staring at the bright color of blood. There was only a man on her mind by then, and she closed her eyes in order to imagine him standing next to her.

“You could have prevented her from dying if you had just gotten in the damn car. How does it feel when people die because of you?”

She opened her eyes softly at those mocking words. Masaoka instantly frowned, “How can you say that Kougami?”

She stood up again, and turned to them. Her eyes were also narrowed as dangerously as Kougami’s, and for a moment they remained silent staring at themselves, as if trying to tear one another apart.

“You are used to killing not only latent criminals but innocent people, so I would ask to you the same question.”

It was not the first time she had ever spoken out loud about her rejection of the justice system in that country, yet it was the first time that for saying what many would not even dare to admit to themselves, they raised their dominators at her, making her smile. However, they all remained static and as useless as water pistols, and she had the same unreadable expression again.

_Crime coefficient is 35. Not a target for enforcement action. The trigger will be locked._

“We’re sorry about this misunderstanding miss,” Masaoka lowered his gun. “It’s part of our standard procedures.”

For a moment the three of them looked right through her as if she was not there. But suddenly another black car had arrived, and other people she had never seen before got out of it. One of them was a tall, slim woman with short brown hair styled into a blunt cut on both sides. She walked toward them with her gaze up and her brown eyes slightly narrowed. There was no doubt that she was also an inspector.

“My division will handle this,” she nodded to Ginoza with an air of authority and professionalism. “Chief Kasei has given you a free hand to continue the investigation.”

Yashiro’s eyes widened at the mention of that name. She remembered Sasayama complaining that his case had been transferred to another division, when he was the one closest to the truth, and his rejection of the clear interest in capturing Kozaburo Toma alive. She would never forget the confusion and disappointment in his every feature.

She found it almost a mockery that they were given the case again—they had been taken out of the equation ever since Mitsuru Sasayama decided not to follow the rules, and to be a threat to those who wanted to make Toma disappear, for he had discovered their secret—that some people could not be judged. And now his division was back to work on the same case that had been taken away from him a month earlier.

She was about to giggle but the corner of her lips remained slightly up. They were preying on the emotions of Kougami Shinya to find accomplices, and they would discard him as soon as he thought of revenge. Yashiro closed her eyes. No one would be willing to go that far on such a meaningless search—unless there were more people like Toma threatening their credibility. She opened them again, unable or reluctant to believe it. Perhaps she could not get to see the bigger picture, and her mind was starting to imagine things. But the thought was still there.

She wondered who these people were, for inspectors and enforcers were nothing more than a means to their ends. She always saw them as the eyes and hands of the Public Safety Bureau, but she had no idea who were part of the brain. Then she slowly shook her head. Something shattered within her and she gasped—after capturing Toma, she would interrogate him in order to find more people like him and possible witnesses, then kill them all. As simple as that. She did not believe he could have told them about Makishima Shougo, but she also knew that he was careless. He talked too much. He might have turned him in by accident.

Yashiro now felt a strange responsibility to warn Makishima. She realized how dangerous these people were, and that she was digging right into their hole. If she was not careful, they could figure out that someone was trying to grab them by their tail and pull them out.

“This was no ordinary robbery. We were targeted by these men for unknown reasons,” declared Inspector Ginoza.

“Maybe it wasn’t us,” Kougami jumped into their conversation, then raised his chin at Yashiro. “Her.”

The woman looked at the men and finally focused on Yashiro as well, “Who is she?”

“Our only witness,” confirmed Ginoza in a lower voice, squinting his eyes and taking some steps toward her. “We need you to come with us.”

With a smile gracing her face Yashiro went to the men, who led her to the vehicle. She knew then what it was like to be detained for police interrogation, yet despite what anyone would expect from a criminal, she walked alongside Inspector Ginoza as one of his many enforcers would. When they all sat in the car and started the engine, Yashiro looked out the window. As the car began to move, she came to see the holographic projection of Choe Gu-sung in the corner.

Inside the office, Chief Kasei returned to her desk and sat in her chair, leaning back in a smooth, deathly motion. She closed her eyes as the back of her head interconnected, and data began to fill the screen like shooting stars. Her hands slowly tapped the armrests with her index fingers in time to a melody—a slight yet visible frown was drawn on her face.

“Why did he let her live and wait all this time? It’s not like him to be so careless. If he captured Toko Kirino because she knew about him, he should have captured Yashiro too—otherwise he would risk her incriminating him and that’s something he can’t afford.”

Suddenly she leaned forward and when she opened her eyes again, she clasped her hands together with each elbow on its respective armrest.

“Of course—unless he’s certain that she won’t voluntarily incriminate him,” she lifted an eyebrow and smirked. “Yashiro is protecting him. Even knowing that he’s an accomplice of someone who kidnapped Toko, whom she wanted to rescue with the enforcer. These two definitely played a game I wasn’t invited to. I don’t know what her role was, but she wouldn’t help a man like him without a reason.”

Typing in the keyboard in front of her, a profile was displayed on the screen with its last psycho pass check. It was Yashiro’s. She squinted and supported her chin with her thumb, while her index finger pointed vertically up her cheek.

“She’s the only one capable of bringing Shougo out of the shadows. That’s why he sent his men—so that she wouldn’t reveal his identity. But now she’s in our hands.”

After a whole minute, she suddenly leaned forward and searched for some information. Sasayama’s image popped up on the screen and her face contorted into a smirk, “I didn’t know he was precisely the one who killed her mother. One thing I’m sure of is that… if there’s one person relieved by the death of this enforcer, that must be her. Yashiro? We have no conclusive evidence, but we’ll have to keep an eye on her. That her psycho pass has remained stable so far is an indication.”

Chief Kasei typed again and a live camera maximized on the screen. It was an interrogation room consisting only of a desk and two opposing chairs. There sat a woman in a dark red sweater with a black coat over it, her hands on the armrests as gracefully as if she were in the living room of her own home. When she looked up at the single camera in the corner of the room their eyes met, though she could not tell who was watching her from the other side.

There was something uncanny in that look that would not let the chief look away. This woman knew she was being watched, and seemed calm as if it did not worry her—she herself felt at ease in there. If only she would just fiddle with her hands on the table, or at least look around like many other suspects did, but none of that was the case with Yashiro.

As soon as Inspector Ginoza entered the room, her silver, finely narrowed eyes with long strands of bangs at the side, focused on him and then on Masaoka and Kougami, the latter pausing at the corners of the room as if they could not take another step toward her—both the peaceful and imperturbable expression of her face resembled that of an individual who relies on his mere conscience to prove his innocence.


	9. 8

“Do you remember a month ago, during the Specimen Case?” Inspector Ginoza adjusted his glasses.

“Is that what you call it?” Yashiro lifted her chin to him. “What a twisted name. Of course I remember.”

Kougami took the cigarette from his lips, “We know you were with Sasayama.”

The room melted into an enigmatic silence. She remained motionless with both hands on the armrests like a painting, as if she had not really heard the comment.

“I see,” she turned to Inspector Ginoza without even a blink. “What about it?”

He arched an eyebrow and decided to sit facing her, dragging the chair on the floor with a creaking sound for a second, “You lied to the MWPSB. Do you realize how serious this is?”

“A lie does not make you a killer,” she tilted her head to the side with a slight shrug.

“It doesn’t make you an innocent either.”

Yashiro widened her eyes looking for the owner of those words. Kougami was there watching her while smoking a cigarette, and filling the room with that smell so strong for her. Yashiro wondered if he was doing it on purpose, though she could not help but release a thin smile, as she stopped her gaze on the left corner of the table for a moment. Ginoza raised his voice capturing both of their attention, “Why did you lie?”

Yashiro let out a long and audible breath.

“First of all, I did not lie. I simply hid the truth so that you would not stop Sasayama.”

This time Masaoka himself grumbled, “You lied about your relationship with Toma.”

“Yes—is that a crime?” Her voice echoed in the room as she extended her right hand in the air, with her elbow on the armrest. “I never got to know that shade of him. Maybe I did not even want to admit he had one.”

Yashiro put her hand back on the armrest, and fell silent. She had not fully reflected on the mental illness of this vicious killer, but then she closed her eyes for several seconds, and took a deep breath. She should have tried to put a light in the back of his head. That way she could have seen that shade and attempted to change him, even though it was impossible to accomplish. But at least she would have given him the comfort that someone saw and understood that shade.

“Why Sasayama?” Kougami snapped at her.

Yashiro looked up again as if it had been years.

“I did not seem right to take him off the case, so I decided to help him when no one else did. The case was transferred to other agents but you had started the investigation, you were the closest to finding Toma. And Sasayama had personal reasons for looking for Toko—he would have done so with or without my help.”

Kougami clenched his fists tightly, “You used him.”

“That is a way of looking at it,” she squinted at him and tilted her head to the side. “As an inspector, didn’t you use him to do your dirty work?”

“That was different.”

“In what way? I did not force him to look for Toko. He himself knew there was no turning back. I think even… for the first time as an enforcer, he made a decision on his own free will. You see… it was not me who was going to point a dominator at him if he did not follow my orders—"

All of a sudden, Kougami passed by the table and held her by the collar of her black coat, lifting her slightly in the chair and bringing her close to his face, as if preparing himself to choke the life out of her. With a lit cigarette fixed between the fingers of his free hand, he exhaled deeply into her face.

“How convenient!”

Yashiro’s face contorted into a repulsed expression as the smell wafted over her, but she stared at him through disheveled bangs, with her head slightly tilted to the side and her lips parted. He was a little taller than she was and certainly much heavier, for she could tell that he exercised regularly, yet she replied with an almost mocking calmness, “I beg your pardon?”

“He killed your mother. Surely you wanted to leave him there to die, didn’t you?”

She curled her lip showing her teeth for a second, and grabbed his forearm with one of her hands squeezing hard, though he did not release the grip.

“I wanted Toko back just like him—"

“But you wouldn’t miss the chance to get revenge, would you?”

“Kougami—that’s enough!” Ginoza yelled at him.

Yashiro frowned, her tempting narrowed eyes bathing his face until she whispered defiantly, “I understand… wanting to take revenge. I can see it in your eyes. There is nothing wrong with a cop having fun in his work. I will not deny my own personal relief as soon as I heard of his death.”

“Kougami!” Masaoka growled right behind him.

“But nothing can take the pain away. Eventually you will learn to live with it. There will be nightmares. Hallucinations. Until one day... you will wake up with a different priority.”

“Who do you think you are, manipulating others and talking about whether or not they deserve to be saved?” Kougami questioned almost in a shout.

“Sasayama was an enforcer. He has killed many innocent people himself. Why should it be a sin not to mourn his death, when he did never think of my mother or what I felt? You can take me to church—but I am not praying for him.”

“You denounce Sibyl for its justice, but you act on the same basis.”

“I act on the basis of my own values,” declared Yashiro aloud, without waiting for a response. “You still refuse to see what is fading into you... Kougami. It is hard to be an arbiter of our lives. It is easier to play and delegate that role to someone else.

“You let go of your emotions in favor of reason. You thought Sasayama was weak for having feelings and being guided by them… but you were weak for hiding from them.

“Sasayama may never have made a decision of his own free will as an enforcer. But at least he chose to die… as a free man. Now I remember… you were the one who told him to stay off the case… and now you regret… because he is dead.”

Kougami released her with a push. His eyes were wide open, still fully focused on her. Ginoza shot him an accusing glance and turned to her, with an authoritative and certainly distrustful tone, “Tell us what happened in the apartment.”

Yashiro did not look directly at him, she was still attentive to Kougami’s movements, who seemed to want to hit her at that very moment.

“We found out that Toko could be kidnapped there and we went in. She managed to escape and then Toma showed up on the stairs. There was a fight. And then the fire. We had to get out through a window just before… everything caught fire. We thought Toma was dead. There was no way he could escape the flames—”

“But he did,” Kougami sneered at her. “What caused the fire?”

“I have no idea. We did not look at the details.”

Kougami began pacing the room, letting out a sigh of exasperation. Then he spluttered, more to himself, “Sasayama was right. The whole mastermind thing. Everything makes sense now. I should have listened to him. First—the fire at the academy. And now this. Someone wanted to help him escape.”

“What did you do then?” Ginoza inquired, completely ignoring his partner.

“They insisted that there were accomplices. I did not want Toko to get futher involved, but I could not change her mind. So I went with them…”

Inspector Ginoza folded his arms and raised his head, “Go on.”

“We were ambushed in an alley. Someone knocked me out from behind. The last thing I remember is Sasayama turning around to see me.”

“And Miss Kirino?”

“When I woke up, I was alone in the same place,” Yashiro looked down and shook her head, as if memories suddenly came flooding back. “I never saw them again.”

Kougami had his eyes fixed on the wall behind her, but remarked with a certain dangerous intonation, “Why would they let you live?”

Yashiro simply shrugged her shoulders.

“I do not know. They must have thought the fall would have killed me.”

“Toma’s men. Whoever these people are, they could not let Miss Kirino tell the CID everything,” guessed Ginoza and then suddenly added, casting a glance at Yashiro. “And if they were the same ones who attacked us, it means they could not let you live either…”

“Not Toma’s,” Kougami let out a puff of smoke. “He would never do any harm to the girl.”

“He kidnapped her,” Masaoka reminded him.

“He was obsessed with her—he wanted her to love him. Those were other men.”

“If not Toma’s men, then whose?” Ginoza questioned.

Kougami did not answer him directly and continued to give shape to his idea, while extending his right hand with the cigarette between his fingers, “The girl must have seen or heard something she shouldn’t have, and that’s why she was captured. But Toma wasn’t part of this—he didn’t know they were just playing tricks on him.”

“Kougami… you are delusional,” the inspector closed his eyes for a moment.

“And I think you were part of it,” Kougami looked down, finally focusing on her. “Because you’re lying.”

Yashiro arched an eyebrow and took several seconds to smirk, letting out a brief sigh, “Why would I do that?”

Kougami was silent for a few moments pondering his own conclusion, and he exhaled some smoke toward her.

“Maybe you were protecting something—or someone.”

“Try me.”

Kougami pulled out his dominator and pointed it straight at her. Yashiro remained in the same place, as if waiting for death. Ginoza was about to scold him, yet he was silent when he realized that the gun was static.

_Crime coefficient is 15. Not a target for enforcement action. The trigger will be locked._

Kougami had his finger next to the trigger as if he wanted to pull it by all means, but finally lowered the gun again. He thought it must be the lowest psycho pass he had ever seen in his life, but a part of him still could not believe that number, and his face withered as if suddenly, life had lost all meaning. Yashiro then knew that she had broken something inside him. He holstered his gun again, but was unable to tear his eyes away from hers.

“No one lives white forever. Someday you will turn black, too.”

She looked down and whispered, “I hope so.”

Kougami lifted an eyebrow and then left the room. Masaoka turned around calling his name, but shook his head and decided to go after him. Yashiro could not help but smile—he seemed to be the kind of man who took care of his colleagues, whether they were strictly family or not. She really liked that man, even though his eerie, silent intuition could become disturbing at times.

She could glimpse Ginoza’s green eyes glowing under his glasses, “I am sorry for all the misunderstanding. Kougami is no longer the same since the death of Sasayama. He is willing to find the culprits. I would not want to be one of them to be honest…”

Yashiro blinked at the way his voice had slightly faded.

“Don’t be. You are doing your job. I really hope you can solve the case,” she displayed a renewed, fresh smile instead.

“Rest assured we will,” he stated with a frown as if she were suddenly someone else, then made a long pause. “There is someone who wants to see you.”

Yashiro tilted her head with a smile, but before she could say anything else, the inspector was gone and soon another man she had never seen entered the room. She could tell he was in his fifties, and his brown eyes scrutinized her with calm precision. He looked like an ordinary person, for he was wearing a green sweater and a woolen muffler. But she believed there was something else.

“A professor?” She tried to guess with narrowed eyes.

He arched an eyebrow and adjusted his glasses, then sat in front of her.

“Used to be.”

“Specialized in psychology, I suppose.”

He released a barely visible smile, “My name is Saiga Joji.”

She stretched out in the chair placidly.

“Did you assist in investigations?”

“I did… as a psychiatric examiner.”

She squinted her eyes at him. That man described a professional aura that she had never perceived in anyone else before.

“Why did you quit?” She questioned, then lifted her chin. “Because their crime coefficients rose. They—they made you quit. Is that why you dislike the current society? Because they do not value your work, one that can save so many people?”

He slightly tilted his head and stroked his beard for some time while contemplating her.

“You suffer from an empathy disorder that allows you to put yourself into the mindset of anyone—but it may destroy yourself. You aspire to work for the Public Safety Bureau… as an inspector, am I right?” She nodded her head. “Of all the jobs you could apply for, why would you choose that one?”

“Maybe it is like you psychologists… who seek to know yourselves. May I ask what brings you here? Could this be… some Kougami’s move?”

“I looked through the information he brought with him. I can see why he is so conflicted about you.”

“What is your assessment?”

“You helped the students of Ousou Academy to safety during a fire. And you came to the defense of many people today by warning them—you were conscious of the danger that loomed over them, and you acted accordingly.”

“One of them was shot in the end.”

“It does not change the fact that it demonstrates you have a very strong sense of right, wrong, and justice as well.”

Yashiro slowly shook her head and sighed, as if listening to a boring old story.

“I would not be so sure of that.”

Another smile lit up his face. After all, he was the psychologist in that room.

“You show no signs of depression or social introversion. But you certainly have a psychopathic deviate conflict… as it regards to society's rules.”

She suddenly chuckled and looked to the left, before turning back to him, “Is that it?”

He leaned forward with the same solemn expression.

"You are masquerading.”

It was precisely her sudden lack of reaction that said it all for the man.

“You are divorced from a side of yourself I cannot see… because you are terrified of letting people see it. I still cannot figure out why… or what it is like.”

Looking at the coffee cup on his right hand, Saiga Joji pondered on the young woman he had met a day ago. Kougami was sitting right in front of him, and he had not ordered anything to eat for he wanted to be fully focused on him. He was off duty but since he was an enforcer, there was nowhere else he could go besides the Criminal Investigation Department floor and his quarter.

"She is a highly intelligent, driven individual with some developed sociopathic tendencies. Maybe it was caused by a post-traumatic stress disorder. She has a hatred for authority and for the country, something going against her morals and ethics.

“She has a particular charisma—being able to influence others and make people feel what they are looking for. She is like a mirror reflecting their deepest and most suppressed desires, and she is very conscious of that power. I dare say she is even capable of either illuminating or clouding the psycho pass of others.”

“I’ve never seen a hue like hers,” Kougami slowly shook his head. “And she must be the best liar I’ve ever seen. There’s something about her—I can’t tell.”

“I have read about her past. The tragedy. Maybe that was the critical turning point in her life.”

“We should ask Yashiro herself, but I don't think she'll answer.”

The former professor widened his eyes for a second, then took a sip of coffee.

“She would only open up to someone who can see and understand… that side of her she is so terrified of letting others see.”


	10. 9

The violin was still playing in the distance. It was a soft yet powerful melody. Senguji Toyohisa stopped wiping his chin and put the napkin down on the table, when he discovered an unusual glow covering those amber eyes in front of him. They were entirely focused on the wall, as if watching something right through it.

“Despite everything that has happened… you find yourself searching for ways that she could still be alive don’t you, Shougo?”

The white-haired man only blinked, but did not turn to look him in the eye. He had not even tasted a bite of the food, and his hands rested on his legs as if that whole body was weighing him down that day.

“One of her neighbors told me she came back home, then disappeared,” he slowly argued in a deep voice.

“But you cannot accept the possibility of finding her dead.”

He finally seemed to realize he was also there, and turned his gaze toward him. His eyes narrowed in order to scrutinize him, as if it were the first time they had met. He usually had that uncanny effect on people, which he had grown accustomed to.

“I do know about death. For more than a hundred thousand years millions of human lives have been dying and being born as well.”

Senguji arched an eyebrow, then tilted his head to the side gently resting his chin on his fingers.

“None of them have influenced you as much as she has, and you seem surprised by that. You have to deal with the fact that if she didn't ask you to see her, it means she doesn't want to be found. Not even by you.”

"I miss her,” he just uttered, raising the wine glass to his lips.

For the first time, it was hard for a famous and talkative man like Senguji Toyohisa to find words. The voice sounded like a dream, and at first he could not believe the meaning.

“You sacrificed yourself to help her,” Senguji widened his eyes. “By letting your men die, you have set in motion the beginning of a further investigation that will eventually tie you in. Whatever you’re doing, you got to stop.”

"Are you suggesting to let her lose her mind?" He dangerously raised his voice, echoing throughout the big room.

"You always liked to observe."

“I haven’t given up on her.”

He made a long pause to pour himself a glass of wine, then looked back at him, "Why is she so important to you, Shougo?"

The young man slightly moved his glass in circles on the table for a few seconds, watching the drink inside.

“It’s curious… the concept of friendship. How is it possible to feel attached to someone who sees the world, and interacts with it in such a different way than you?"

"It’s possible... only if that person is able to assume your point of view, to see beyond your suit. It requires a lot of trust, something hard to find these days. Especially for someone like you."

Makishima looked straight ahead, and his eyes narrowed as if slowly falling asleep. He was looking right at the other chair in front of him, and Senguji turned his head in the same direction. They were alone that night, yet he wondered whether he was imagining the woman there with them.

“She’s able to get into someone else's head, but also allows them to get into her own in the process. I could see behind her eyes... and she's afraid of a part of herself she can't repress. I admire that side of her —t here's an honesty I can relate to. She reminds me of... when I was young."

“You are obsessed with her."

He raised an eyebrow for a second and blinked, still not taking his eyes off the empty chair in order to respond, "I want to help her understand."

“And she will take advantage of that, but you know it, don't you?"

“She already has,” he whispered, tilting his head with a smile. “I forgave her.”

Senguji stretched backward placing his hands on the armrests, “And still you feel supportive of her.”

“Yashiro is my friend,” he stated as a casual remark.

Senguji thought that even if that woman wanted him dead, he would still say the same thing. He had never believed someone could make him act that way, and he was suddenly intrigued by this woman. He would add her later to his agenda. He really looked forward to meeting her someday.

“I’m glad you admit you have one.”

His smile widened for several seconds, but then disappeared again as he stared at him.

“Aren’t we, Senguji?”

They were both silent for a while, until Senguji released a sympathetic smile like that of a father to his son, "I'm your sponsor. Friends are honest to each other.”

Makishima looked to the right and then back at him, there was an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m being honest with you,” his voice became deeper than usual.

“Not perfectly,” Senguji shook his head gently. “I’m only a friend of a reflection of you.”

A barely visibly smirk suddenly began to cover the young man’s lips.

“A reflection of me?”

“You wear a mask to keep your distance from the others, preventing them from getting too close and noticing that something’s off with the color, or the shape. I respect its design, nonetheless.”

“Have you seen underneath?”

Senguji found it hard to believe how sensitive he was to emotional invasion. He was so closed off and vulnerable, that even though he did not show it physically, he was horrified by the possibility that other people could reach his true self behind the mask. Intelligent and arrogant, but at the same time, overprotective of his own intimacy.

“I see enough of your reflections to imagine the original face, and it must be so lonely.” 

“That's it,” he gasped, widening his eyes.

“What?”

His face had changed in a way that even he could not understand — he looked almost like a child with that genuine, youthful smile — the same one he had every time that woman was mentioned.

“I know of a place she would go."

“She may not betray you by exposing your true identity, but you’re getting too involved with her,” warned Senguji, pointing to him with his glass. 

Makishima frowned, staring back at him. His body was utterly still as stone, yet his eyes would have made anyone take a step backwards to get away from him.

“You can give me advice to protect myself, but I can’t give her mine?” He cocked his head to one side, as his voice filled the empty space with cold irony.

“Careful there, Shougo. They could compromise you by using her as bait. Someday they will find out your pattern. You have to take a step back if you see you’re on the edge.”

He leaned an elbow on the table and raised the glass in front of him, focusing all his attention on the drink, “What would this pattern be?”

“You create crimes by bringing people together who would otherwise be dismissed as boring one-offs. Violent and unpredictable people who have their own motives, intent, and means to kill.”

He set the glass back down on the table, closing his eyes for a moment as if he had just realized that he had done something wrong, or had failed to do something which he should have done.

“She denounces her mentality and her person as grotesque and dangerous for this society.”

Senguji stood immobile for a long while like a mannequin, his green eyes were wide open without blinking at any moment, and studied him with a wise but at the same time cordial and kind insight.

“People are not plasticine you can easily mold, Shougo. Especially when they reach an age in which they are more aware of themselves and their environment.”

Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 burst into the room again and they remained silent thereafter. Makishima finally took a bite of the dish, then smiled. It was the reflection again.

“Delicious as always,” he praised in a pure, soft voice.


	11. 10

The wide ocean opened in front of him with buildings and skyscrapers that never slept. The towering Rainbow Bridge was illuminated with soothing lights that dominated that cold dark night. To his right, the replica of the Statue of Liberty loomed over trees looking out over the city. It was a place where nature and human will merged. Still, it was not this beautiful and mesmerizing view that had stopped him, but the figure sitting all alone in one of the benches of the observation deck, watching the water ahead as if looking for answers in the waves.

With her hands on her knees and her head slightly turned to the side, she overshadowed the luxurious city with her simple presence—she did not need expensive clothes, ostentatious jewelry, or makeup like other women, for she was a force that humbled her environment by herself. He came closer without making a sound, and when he sat down next to her, she took a deep breath.

He thought of the power he possessed at that moment—of how simple it would be for him to smother her and then make her disappear. That thought gave him pleasure, a sense of power and at the same time of submission to her, for he knew he could never wield such power. He was capable of extinguishing a life if he deemed it necessary, and his hand would not tremble in doing so, yet nothing conceivable could compel him to do the same with this woman. Of the two, it was he who felt powerless at that very moment.

“It’s cold out here. Why don’t you go home?” He suggested resting his left arm on the stone back.

It was then that Yashiro widened her eyes, barely tilting her head in his direction as if she were trapped in her own thoughts. Once again, they had not greeted each other—it was like a moment out of something that had never ended. He would find it strange whether either of them ever dared say “hello” to the other. He never said that to himself in the morning.

They had not heard from her for days—she had not even spoken to Choe. When he went to her apartment—the address of which he could easily find on his own—all he received in the corridor was a darkness and a silence that he would otherwise have considered relaxing. Her neighbors were used to her coming and going, for she did not usually stay too long in her apartment, unless it was to sleep or spend time with her cat. 

Like a nomad, she would sometimes return to her apartment and then to the world, looking for something to keep her mind busy. Yashiro had no family left, and if she did, the only link between them was blood. He knew she would turn herself in from the very moment she pleaded guilty, though he would have never believed that Choe—who was nothing like him, yet a man he would trust with his life—would let her go.

She was about to turn her face to him, but released a sigh and lifted her head again to stare at the sea. Then she asked in a low voice, “How did you feel the first time you realized you were like a ghost?”

His eyes widened with a spark of perplexity, yet a nostalgic smile was drawn on his lips as he looked over the ocean.

“I felt powerful. And then…”

His voice was as solemn and enveloping as that of a politician making an important statement—it was the first time he had ever opened up to anyone else about those feelings.

“Then?”

He crossed a leg over the other, resting his free hand on his thigh, “I felt lonely.”

His face relaxed as if that shine of her was truly a mirror staring back at him. He was looking right at the other half of himself—a reflection that had been there all along, and which he would look at all the time. In the end, he was not the only one walking in that empty land.

“The detectives knew I was with Sasayama,” she finally dared to whisper. “But I changed the end of the story. I lied to their faces. It was so easy to do… and yet they distrusted me. They had a hunch that I was guilty. But reason prevailed again—because  _ reason must prevail _ . Remember that old novel by Zamyatin?”

He smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. It did not get much recognition, considering that it inspired other great authors such as Orwell and Huxley.

“You should have come to me,” he raised his voice looking at her. “You betrayed me—again. You let them catch you on purpose. What if the gatekeeper never let you out, Yashiro? What if they made you disappear?”

“Then you would know that you must not seek entrance,” her voice came soft and faint instead.

He could not help but frown and curled his lip for a second, “It wasn't worth it Yashiro. Not if the cost was you.”

“You didn’t drag me into your world. I got here on my own and I can find my way out of whatever it is I’ve gotten myself into.”

A fleeting smile graced his lips only to fade.

“Perhaps you’re right. The solution is simple then—I get into a car and disappear.”

She frowned and turned her head slightly toward him, still looking straight ahead.

“Disappear?”

“You don't believe I can? Choe and I offer that to many people as candy.”

There was a long pause as they analyzed each other.

“You’re offering to walk away,” she stated, as if she could not believe her own words.

“If you want me to go, command me to and you will finally free yourself from me. You'll go your way and I'll go mine. I'll disappear and you'll have a normal life. The one I've taken away from you since I had the privilege of meeting you that cloudy day in the library.”

Yashiro arched an eyebrow. Slowly, she allowed herself to release a smile and her eyes started to shine at last, “You still remember.”

“You were reading... Ubik.”

He narrowed his eyes as memories came back to him. Few people dared embrace the inspiring empty sound of silence and still, that day he found someone able to see the beauty of such small things as well. He had expected her to sit right beside him, and even knew what he was going to say to her, but she walked away instead. Any other woman would have done exactly the opposite in the same situation. He had always given them what they wanted to hear—they were easy to convince and boring to no end. They would allow him to dictate their thoughts and actions with no hesitation, for they saw in him something they have lost—a light he taught them how to find again.

Yashiro never needed his help instead. She came on with empty hands like the wind, still she has taken him every time she left. There had been something enigmatic about the way she first laid eyes on him, as if they had met each other in the past. He remembered frowning in the stone bench, a sudden anger covering his senses, and a need to change her mind slowly taking over him. Little did he know about the woman he would then meet.

He should have never asked her name in the library. It would have been easier to forget she ever existed. But nothing was able to take that strong sense of self away from him. He could have walked alone as well, yet he would have found a way back to her. There laid the chance to be stray again—then why was a part of him seeking his way back home, when he never had one? They were free—they did not rely on anyone else.

“Tell me to walk away, Yashiro. You can make this place be the last where we met—I would never dare look for you, but you will always find me here if you ever need me.”

Yashiro was unable to utter a single word for several seconds, until she finally stated in a strong voice, her eyes utterly fixed on him, “Shougo.”

A barely visible smirk covered his lips at such a simple word, then instantly disappeared.

“Freeing myself from you is like... being alone again—but without peace.”

He squinted for a second and lifted his chin.

“You can find a replacement.”

“Not for everyone.”

His eyes started to narrow, a smile slowly formed on his lips that lingered for a while, until it faded away and he muttered, “The dominator didn’t work on you—but you wanted it to.”

“It had to.”

“Everything you’ve done so far has been to save Rikako.”

“Giving the knife to someone else doesn’t make you any less guilty,” she blinked looking down her hands. “Does it make me a monster too?”

“I’ve seen monsters grow and die throughout my life, and you’re not one of them.”

She shook her head with her eyes wide open, and murmured, “You don’t know.”

He slowly lowered his head toward her.

“Tell me then, Yashiro. Tell me the secret you keep from me. The one you don’t want to admit—not even to yourself.”

“My father and I…” she started mumbling, but her lips quivered and her voice trailed off.

“Can’t hear you.”

The previous babble turned into firm words, “My father and I used to work together.”

He slightly nodded his head and she gulped to continue, beginning to fiddle with her fingers just above her thighs.

“It was all a game to me as a child—meeting people using different names and never seeing them again. But when I grew up… I knew he was a criminal. He used my… condition all along to help him commit crimes and make money. And despite all that… I still helped him. He must have stolen and killed so many times because of me. And I did nothing… I was afraid. I knew he would kill my mother or myself on the spot. He tried in the end…”

“I wondered when you would dare to tell me,” he whispered.

She frowned for a moment staring back at him, but then looked down again.

“I knew I was helping a monster and planned to kill him many times. I still don’t get why Sibyl never judged me, if I was aware of everything I was doing. I deserve to be judged just like him—"

“You were a victim, Yashiro.”

She narrowed her eyes and let out a brief, deep chuckle, looking up for a moment.

“Was I? And what am I now?”

“A survivor,” he proudly raised his chin.

Suddenly she stood up and he watched her walk away toward the railing. Resting both hands on its surface, she lost her gaze on the skyscrapers. Only then did he raise his eyebrows to state, “You’re afraid of becoming your father.”

Silence came between them. Yashiro clenched her fists on the railing, but did not turn around.

“You may have your father’s eyes, Yashiro… but you’re nothing like him. It’s our will that makes us who we are. Perhaps… that’s why Sibyl can’t judge you. You’re like a mother protecting her daughter above all, accepting her actions. And something as rational as the Sibyl System couldn’t possibly understand it. The concept of family ceased to exist long ago—human bonds are no longer necessary in this city.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong!” Her voice cracked, then deepened. “I’m not supposed to decide who lives and who dies.”

He gently stood up from the bench.

“And who then? The Sibyl System? We know Rikako better than the Sibyl System, better than anyone else.”

“I don’t know what to believe in anymore,” she sighed, shaking her head. "What is wrong with me?"

When she finally turned around, her eyes narrowed as if she had not slept for days—her face was a blank page he wanted to write on. There was a glint in her eyes threatening to come to tears, yet she blinked looking away, trying not to show herself vulnerable. Her body was completely relaxed instead, as if she herself could not understand the meaning of those unfinished tears. But she was a sparrow singing in a language they could both understand—she was killing him with that beautiful melody of hers, for he knew she could tell his whole life in simple words. And yet he would still listen to her at his window.

He slowly came over to that intimate space of hers, and even though he was getting too close for the first time, she did not take a step back. When he wrapped an arm around her neck to pull her close, gently placing his free hand on her back, Yashiro froze at the sudden feeling of his body against hers, as if floating alone in space, until she finally landed on earth with a flicker, and placed her head on his chest, right between his beige vest and his tie, squeezing him back. She breathed heavily against him as silent tears finally covered her eyes, and he sighed resting his nose and mouth on her head, the reflections slowly making into one.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he whispered in her ear.

He closed his eyes and melted into the softness and smell of her hair, as she slowly caught her breath under his arms. There was something taking over his senses and filling his lungs—like a strange responsibility not to let her drown, a need to shield her from the world, and let her fly on her own as well, for she was a bird out of reach. They remained embraced in the same place for quite some time, only separating when they heard a car parking near them. He slightly lowered his head to look at her, “This is us."

Placing his hand on her back, they both headed for the car, sitting together. The driver was slowly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the old music.  _ Somewhere, beyond the sea. _ They each drifted into their own thoughts as the car drove forward, yet he touched the ground again as soon as Yashiro slowly leaned her head to rest it on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. 

He instead remained attentive looking straight ahead, his face slightly tilted in her direction. The huge buildings loomed on either side of the vehicle again, illuminating them with advertising holograms, but suddenly he felt a quiet sense of peace wash over his body, as if they were going somewhere beyond everything they knew—a place without a Sibyl System. It did not really matter to him if it was not true. Nothing else did, for when he looked at her, he found his way back home.


End file.
